Aligning Loyalties xx Going Grey 4
by Kiristeen
Summary: As far as Snape's concerned, his godson has taken a step into insanity and he is determined to discover why.  Unfortunately, no one's talking.  Focuses mostly on the Trio and Draco. #4 in 'Going Grey'. Platonic Harry and Draco.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

Thank you, Mithralandtj, casanle, and Makaem! You keep the muses breathing!

Makaem, not much room for a naked Snape story wise, but you'll find a virtual one tied up on your virtual bed, the next time you want him. ::smirk:: Do you like Remus/Snape? If so, I can make that my next story, when I get that one far enough along to start posting it...?

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Chapter One  
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Draco shifted restlessly as he waited just outside the eastern entrance to the castle. The door Potter had chosen to meet outside was small, and usually went unnoticed. Usually, only those students adventurous enough to do some rather extensive exploring ever found it. It really didn't surprise him that Potter knew about it. Of all the things the Gryffindor was known for, being a shut in was definitely not one of them. Draco knew about it courtesy of his father, who, apparently, had been quite the intrepid explorer in his day. He smirked to himself. It was either that, or _his_ father had told him about it. Frankly, Draco thought that was far more likely of the two ideas. He was just glad he _did_ know about it. If he hadn't, it would have been a pain to let Potter know he had absolutely no clue where the hell the prat wanted to meet.

Nearly growling with impatience, Draco paced quickly across the small alcove and leaned up against the wall, giving himself a good view of the door. He wanted to know the moment they arrived. That was, of course, assuming that bloody Potter wasn't already here, hidden under that invisibility cloak of his, making him wait. He was going to be very irritated if that was the case. He'd been here for ten minutes already, waiting, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, exactly as if he were being watched. If Potter was just being purposely obnoxious. . . .

It had taken him over a month's work to get everything he needed together and brew the potion. It wasn't the easiest one he'd ever brewed. In fact, it had been damn difficult. He'd almost messed three separate times, and only quick thinking and his knowledge of potions ingredients that had saved the brew. He was invested in this - not that the curse would allow for anything else. _No,_ he thought suddenly, _it would have, I just would not have been very happy about it._ He really didn't think it wasn't anything he couldn't ignore if he _really_ wanted to, but given his two choices, Potter truly seemed the better choice at this point. He shook himself, a little unsettled at his thoughts. He certainly wouldn't have thought that before the train ride to school - despite not wanting to have anything to do with the dark lord. Of course, he hadn't really tried very hard, either. The knowledge that Potter's raw power was greater than that of the dark lord - not to mention the potential political and social power Potter should one day wield - had made his actions seem very clear cut, obvious even, and he'd followed through on that. He was a Slytherin after all, and this was definitely in his best interests - curse bedamned. _It_ had merely allowed him to see that fact.

The door cracked open jerking Draco from his thoughts, and he slowly moved back into the shadows of the corner, in case it was Filch, or any of the professors. He couldn't afford to get caught by any of them . . . for varying reasons. For the first time ever, he was actually more worried it would be Professor Snape than any of the others. He loved his godfather, and believed the man cared about him in return, but Draco couldn't take the chance that said caring would be far outweighed by his responsibilities to the dark lord. He _was_ a deatheater, after all. _Just like my father,_ Draco thought, shuddering. He hoped his father would still be speaking with him when this was all said and done, but knew there was a very real chance that the man wouldn't ever want to _see_ him again, let alone speak with him.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut and he could make out Potter's shape in the moonlight. Taking a deep calming breath, he took a single step forward into the moonlight. "I'm surprised to see you here alone," he said by way of greeting.

Potter snorted, turning to face him. "Who said I am?" he asked, smirking.

Draco nodded wryly. One or both of the others _could_ be here, he supposed, hidden under the cloak he'd thought Potter might come under. They could have come in with Potter and he would never be the wiser. For that matter, they could also have been here from the beginning.

"You wanted to talk?" Potter challenged. "I'm here; so talk."

Draco nodded, having figured already that Potter wouldn't be interested in Slytherin word games. Unfortunately, the words he'd practiced over and over suddenly left him. _It figures_, he snorted. "I know you've got no reason to believe me, past experience and all, but I don't want anything to do with 'you know who'," he began.

_Oh, great beginning, you pillock!_

Potter laughed. "You're right, I don't have a good reason to believe that," he sneered, folding his arms firmly across his chest. "Why wouldn't you follow in dear old Daddy's footsteps?"

"I met him this last summer," Draco replied bluntly.

"That'd be enough for me," Potter admitted, eyes a little widened.

"Listen," Draco said intently, hearing the unspoken, 'but I doubt it's enough for you', "he's insane, obsessed even. And _that's_ one of the reasons you're going to beat him."

"So," Potter said, scoffing, "this is about 'being on the winning side'?"

"I will admit," Draco began slowly, knowing Potter wouldn't believe anything else at this point, "that _is_ a part of it, but it's not _all_ of it."

Potter frowned, and for the first time since he stepped through the door began to look slightly less . . . decisive.

"I can help you, Potter," Draco said, leaning forward, realizing this was his moment to be convincing. "I may not be good at the same things you are, but there are things I'm far better at, and we both know it. And that's a good thing." Draco spoke intently, knowing he was right. He had value to Potter, and it suddenly dawned on him exactly what that value was. In fact, his body was fairly singing with it. He would be a key, some kind of catalyst. He didn't know for what, precisely, just that it was what he could do best for Potter's side. It's what Potter _needed_ from him. It was a heady sensation, the feeling coursing through him. And though, he knew it stemmed from the curse, it still felt incredible. He had a purpose, one that didn't turn his stomach, or make him want to hide under his covers and never crawl out.

Potter huffed and shook his head. "I don't doubt _that_, Malfoy, not if you're legitimate. What I _doubt_ is your sincerity."

Wanting to stomp his foot in frustration, despite the fact that he'd known all along it would come to this, Draco sighed and reached into his cloak pocket. Potter stiffened and Draco rolled his eyes. "After more than five years, you _still_ don't know where I keep my wand?" he asked drily.

"Doesn't mean you couldn't have moved it," Potter retorted, but Draco could see in his defensive reaction that he hadn't even thought of that.

He shrugged anyway. It was still time to make nice. "Point," he replied, pulling out the small vial he'd brought with him and holding it up for Potter to see.

This time Potter's eyes widened far more noticeably. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's veriteserum, then, yes, it is."

Potter's wide eyes narrowed suddenly, and Draco nearly gave in to the urge to roll his eyes again.

"And before you say it, I'm sure Granger knows how to test its authenticity."

"I do," Granger said suddenly, stepping forward and disrupting her dissallusionment charm.

Draco contained his jump of startlement for the most part, berating himself silently for having been startled at all, since he knew damn well at least one of the trio was hidden away. Now he suspected two of them had been, because, somehow, he doubted Weaselbee was _not_ there. Draco couldn't see the jealous prat, letting these two do this without him.

"The problem with veriteserum, is the fact that you have to ask the right questions. The person dosed with it will answer questions quite literally, often times completely bypassing the actual intent of the question."

Draco nearly smirked. Here was a good chance to get in good with the mudblood witch. "I'm sure you can figure out questions without loopholes." He even managed to say it without a hint of a sneer, something he was rather proud of.

The bint narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but didn't retort.

"Can you test it, Hermione?"

"Only one way to do it right here, Harry, since I don't normally carry spare potions ingredients, nor the other items necessary for testing, around with me," Granger replied drily.

"How's that?"

"Have one of us take some and see if we have trouble lying," Granger replied, her tone grating and superior.

It was all Draco could do not to lash out at the bloody bint. He was just glad the statement - and the tone - hadn't been directed at him, or he wouldn't have been able to. Of course, the fact that Potter's question _had_ been rather stupid was a point - a very small one - in her favor.

Potter reached out and Draco handed him the tiny bottle. He still couldn't believe he was willing to go this far! They could ask him anything once he was dosed, and he wouldn't be able to do anything except answer them honestly. It was a recipe ripe for humiliation. He just hoped that along with whatever humiliating thing they came up with to ask, they also asked the questions that would make it all worth it. The curse, according to his father, was not going to give him a choice in this matter, and it would be more than simply humiliating to continue helping Potter, trying to gain his trust, like some kind of sick lapdog, who'd keep coming back even after getting kicked. _This_ was bad enough.

That thought stopped him rather cold for a moment as he suddenly wondered whether his father occasionally felt that way, what with the way the dark lord seemed to treat his followers. If the night he'd attended a meeting was a reliable indicator, the death eaters got 'kicked' rather a lot. It was a disturbing realization. He had always seen his father as a strong and powerful man, not someone's whipped dog.

"One drop should be enough to test it, Harry," Granger informed Potter. "Three drops, a full dose of correctly brewed veriteserum, will have anyone spilling their darkest secrets, _if_ the right questions are asked. One drop, will simply make lying _very_ difficult."

Just as Potter was about to dose the chit, Weaselbee jumped forward, shedding the cloak that Draco wanted to own so badly his eyeteeth _ached_, as he moved. "What if _Malfoy's_ poisoned it?" he protested loudly.

Before Draco could fully form a valid protest, one that might actually make a difference to the Gryffindors, Granger had already rounded on the red-headed idiot.

"Malfoy is not _stupid_, Ronald; no matter your feelings about him. Only bad things would happen for him if he poisoned the potion. One: we wouldn't test it this way and just give it to him. Two: he succeeded in poisoning one of us, and the other two inform the headmaster, getting him - at minimum - expelled, if not sent to Azkaban."

Surprised though he was that Granger was actually acknowledging his intelligence, he was far more surprised that the blunt, book-obsessed Gryffindor had reasoned out a very sound set of reasons he _wouldn't_ poison it - even if trouble _had_ been his intention.

Weaselbee wanted to continue protest, that was plain to see; unfortunately for him, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

"I still don't trust him," the weasel snapped sullenly.

Okay, so he couldn't think of anything _good_ to say.

"Your protest is noted, Ron," Potter said as he let a single drop fall into Granger's mouth. "Anyway, it's not like we're trusting him out of hand, here."

Draco wanted to snarl at both of Potter's friends. With their _help_ he was never going to get anywhere! He backed up and leaned against the wall as Potter questioned Granger - not overly eager to hear any of her secrets, them being too tempting to exploit - and impatiently waited until the three - well, two - of them were satisfied. He doubted Weaselbee would be _satisfied_ with anything about this going Draco's way, ever.

"Alright, Malfoy," Potter said, raising his voice slightly, and Draco stepped forward, ready to get this part over with. Opening his mouth as Potter lifted the dropper top to the veriteserum bottle, he tensed, waiting for the drops to hit his tongue. He had yet to take a potion that tasted remotely good, and he wasn't looking forward to discovering what _this_ one tasted like. Invariably the more powerful the potion, the worse it tasted. He shuddered as the drops hit his tongue, then cringed as he suddenly remembered that veriteserum was tasteless. _Stupid bloody mistake,_ he thought to himself, knowing full well a mistake like that on one of Professor Snape's tests would have got him soundly lectured in that 'I'm so disappointed in you' tone of voice. Draco _loathed_ that tone.

It didn't take long before a sense of wellbeing flowed over him, making him feel as if he didn't have a care in the world, everything outside himself faded to a rather inconsequential haze.

"So what should I ask him first?" Potter whispered fiercely.

"I don't know," Draco replied, despite a part of him, deep inside, realizing that Potter hadn't actually been talking to him. He simply couldn't not answer.

Weaselbee snickered.

"Something you're pretty sure he'd lie about, Harry," Granger told Potter quietly, shrugging.

Draco watched impassively, waiting for the next question he could answer.

"Malfoy, when you first approached me on the train, did you really want to be my friend?"

"Yes," Draco replied immediately.

"Why?"

"Because I'd grown up hearing about you almost constantly. I wanted to be friends with someone who was _that_ important in my father's world, someone he wouldn't be able to intimidate and control."

Potter frowned. "So you wanted to be my friend just to spite your father?"

"No, not just to spite my father. That would have simply been a bonus."

Potter laughed then, and the part deep inside that still kept track of such things, briefly wondered if that was a good or bad sign before it was once again silenced by the potion's effect.

Potter turned to face Granger. "I think it's safe to say that he's under. I _really_ don't think he'd have admitted that any other way. Do you really want to side with me against the dark lord?" he asked, turning his attention away from Granger.

"Yes."

"Why?" the weasel demanded angrily.

"You shouldn't ask such open ended questions, Ron!" Granger admonished the weasel even as Draco began to answer.

"Because Potter is more powerful. Because the dark lord is insane. Because I believe Potter is going to win. Because-"

"Good enough, Malfoy," Potter interrupted, and the urge to continue subsided quickly, for which Draco's peace of mind was grateful. He'd been heading into territory that the tiny little sane voice inside him was beginning to scream about.

"I assume that it is safe to say there are many reasons?" Potter asked then.

"Yes," Draco replied; a nice, safe answer.

"Will any of those reasons harm me?"

Draco blinked, his mouth opening and answering before he had time to truly think through the answer. "I don't think so."

The little voice was once again screaming in protest, and Draco wondered if the veriteserum was near to wearing off, if maybe they wouldn't ask the wrong - or right, depending on point of view - question in time.

Granger stepped closer then and Draco's sense of peace was briefly ruffled.

"Aside from the factors you've already fully mentioned, how many factors went into your decision to join Harry as an ally?"

"Three," he answer immediately, and had to stop and think of what they were, not having realized that there were that many left.

"Are any of those three significant enough that it would better that we know about them, regardless of whether or not it would be wiser for you to tell us about them?"

"Yes." _NO!_

"What is the significant factor that would be better for us to know?"

_Damn it!_

"The Malfoy family curse."

"What?" Potter and the weasel exclaimed in unison.

"Forget that question, Malfoy."

Draco did, relaxing a little.

"What is the Malfoy family curse you just mentioned, exactly, and how did it come about?" Granger asked.

Draco slumped, but immediately began replying, spelling out - in detail - the curse he had so recently learned about. He was most of the way through the tale when he heard Granger speak again.

"We've got a minute, maybe two, before the potion's effects begins to fade."

He kept speaking as Potter nodded.

"Good enough. Does that curse mean that if you ran across someone more powerful than me, that you would turn your attention to them?"

"I don't know."

"Did you feel drawn to Voldemort?" Granger asked.

"Yes," Draco replied. "Against my better judgement," he added willingly.

"And now you wish to align yourself with Harry?"

"Yes."

Potter frowned. "So what would be different about this situation that you wouldn't know whether you would switch again?"

"I had no agreement with the dark lord before coming back to school," Draco answered. "I do not know how, or whether, an active agreement would affect the curse."

"Any answers past this point, Harry, may not be reliably affected by the potion."

Potter nodded, not turning his attention away from him. "So what might prevent the curse making you change your mind later on?"

"I don't know."

"An oath of fealty," the weasel blurted out.

The haze, as well as his sense of peace, was slowly lifting, and Draco nearly groaned, the full import of the information they'd got out of him hitting him hard. His father had warned him of the importance of no one knowing about the curse. It was far too easy to use it to manipulate them. His father was going to kill him! Then the import of what the weasel had exclaimed sunk in as well. _That just might work!_ he thought in wonder; though, he was a bit loathe to swear any kind of oath to anyone, or admit that Weaselbee just might have actually had a good idea.

The plus side to the thing, of course, was that an oath of fealty was more than a one way magic. For the fealty that the 'lord' received from the 'vassal', the lord was required to provide a certain level of succor, as well as protection, to said 'vassal'. The main drawback had yet to be mentioned, but it was a big one. He wouldn't be able to disobey any of Potter's intentional commands - not like he was a slave or anything, but still.

The full effects didn't wear off as quickly as they took effect, but eventually they did, and Draco took a deep breath, relishing his returned ability to _think_ before responding. It was certainly an experience he was glad he'd had - especially since they, very surprisingly, hadn't taken the chance to humiliate him deeply; though, the initial three questions really were ones he'd rather have kept to himself - but wasn't one he wanted to repeat any time soon.

"Worn off yet?" Potter asked, eyeing him closely.

Draco smirked, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "No," he replied, the lie blatant in his nearly mischievous tone.

"He's obviously lying!" the weasel shouted angrily.

_Duh!_ Draco thought instantly, rolling his eyes - as did Granger, he noted.

"Yes, Ron," she agreed with him, "and if he wanted us to actually believe otherwise, he wouldn't have been so very obvious about it, now would he?"

Weaselbee blinked in surprise, then looked incredibly sheepish. "Oh, yeah. I didn't think of that."

_Obviously,_ Draco thought sourly, but he didn't give voice to it. Things might not have been messed up completely yet, despite the revelation of the curse, and he didn't want to take the chance that mouthing off at the bloody weasel would be the thing that did it.

"So would the oath thing work?" Potter asked him.

"It may not stop the curse from making me change my mind," he replied evenly, "but if I actually did anything about it, thereby betraying the oath, the magic of it would kill me."

"I don't want him to end up dead!" Potter exclaimed, turning a horrified look to his two friends.

"Then, he should be very careful not to betray the oath," Granger pointed out.

"But what if the curse forces him to?"

"The curse has yet to _force_ me into anything," Draco replied instead of Granger - she wouldn't know the answer after all. "It has made it feel the most natural thing in the world to do, that it's the right decision for me - even if I don't necessarily like it - but it hasn't forced anything. Somehow, I don't think doing something that would definitely get me killed would _ever_ feel like the 'right' decision."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when something of an epiphany hit Draco with all the subtlety of a bludger and the trio's conversation faded to the background - though he still managed to keep some of his attention on it and them. His father's words came rolling back. _'The curse changes you, Draco.'_ He frowned, suddenly wondering how much of that statement had actually been literal truth and how much had simply been his father's excuse for the things he'd done, things he didn't want to have done? Were those words, that belief, simply his way of dealing with what he'd become, all in the name of an insane dark lord?

"He's got a point, Harry."

Potter frowned, lowering his gaze to apparently stare at his hands. He remained that way for several minutes, while the three of them waited impatiently - Draco with his breath virtually held. The curse was going to drive him nutters, he knew, if Potter didn't accept him. He shuddered minutely, hoping that reality would prove his thought to be completely metaphorical.

_Finally_ Potter's head snapped up. "Okay, Malfoy," he began, "think about what an oath of fealty would mean for you, and if you still want to do this. We'll do it here, tomorrow night - same time."

"And not coincidently," Draco drawled, an almost smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "give you time to figure out what it means as well." At least Potter seemed to be thinking things through these days. That boded well for the future.

Potter snorted, a hint of an actual smile ghosting across his expression. "Something like that," he agreed.

Draco stood and nodded to each of them as if taking his leave of pureblood aristocrats at some social function, then strode toward and through the eastern door. Once on the other side, the door shut behind him, he let out a heavy sigh of relief. Feeling slightly giddy, knowing that he'd stepped across some indefinable line of no return, he wondered what the end consequences would be. After all, his decision was already made. Even without the curse, he only really had two choices, because Dumbledore wasn't even on the map as far as someone he'd be willing to ally with - at least not directly. Of course, attaching himself to Potter did mean he was allied to the older wizard peripherally, but that was acceptable in exchange for the benefits - namely, staying out from under the dark lord's control.

Sighing once again, shaking his head against the odd twist his life had taken, Draco stood straight, and headed for the dorm. It was past time to get some sleep.

Unfortunately, by the time he reached his dorm and was physically ready for bed, his mind was whirling with thoughts, some productive, some not. A large part of him worried that once Potter figured out exactly how two way an oath of fealty was, the prat would back out, leaving Draco high and dry. Another part of him worried that Potter _would_ take him up on the oath. This type of oath was forever. Did he really want to tie himself to Potter for the rest of his life?

Draco shook his head, his contradictory thoughts making less than no sense to him. Either he wanted to do this, or he didn't; wanting it both ways was ridiculous - not to mention so very . . . _Hufflepuff_. Frowning, he decided a trip to the library was in order for after classes tomorrow - or rather, later today. He couldn't remember all the fine details of the oath, and wanted to make sure it wouldn't turn around to bite him in the arse later on. After all, he'd only skimmed the oath in passing - and that had been back when he'd been a kid. He didn't really remember a lot about it.

That settled, his thoughts invariably circled back to his father, and the man's probable reaction to it all, something Draco dreaded. Lucius Malfoy would _not_ be happy to discover his son was siding with the enemy of the man _he_ had sided with. Jaw tightening, mouth settling into a firm, thin line, resolve filled Draco. Dreading the reaction or not, Draco knew he had to arrange for the two of them to run into each other _before_ his father found out what he was doing - had done. That alone would mitigate most, if not all, of his father's rage. It had to. The man had been living with the reality of the curse far longer than Draco had. Surely, the man would understand. It would also tell him whether or not the oath was needed. Of course, by the time he discovered the answer to that, it would already be too late. He just hoped, assuming he actually took the damn thing, that it wasn't an unnecessary step.

Closing his eyes, determined to simply shut off his thoughts so he could actually get some sort of sleep tonight, a terrifying thought slammed into him. Had his father sworn any kind of oath to the dark lord? Biting his lip, Draco desperately searched his memory for any clues. His rapidly beating heart eventually slowed as he realized there didn't appear to be any evidence to support a fealty oath at least. The dark lord certainly hadn't acted like it at the meeting, at any rate. Of course, there were numerous oaths he could have taken, ones far more 'one way', but he really couldn't see his father actually taking any of the ones Draco had heard about, not willingly at any rate. Most of them were little more than spells of willing slavery.

He wished there was someone he could ask, some_how_ he could ask, without giving himself away completely, all the while knowing there wasn't. He couldn't even ask his father, not without giving far too much away - not that he could get an answer back in time anyway. He was truly on his own here. This was a decision he would have to make without any input from those he had always trusted to guide him. It was terrifying, as well as incredibly liberating.

With that last thought ringing through his mind, sleep finally claimed him, bringing with it temporary oblivion to all his troubles.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.

**AN:** No, I'm not trying to say that Ron is stupid in this chapter. I'm simply portraying how his very real hatred of all things Malfoy interferes with his reasoning abilities. : ) No Character bashing in these stories - at least I don't think so. None of the characters will remain 100% JKR's characters, but hopefully, their changes are realistic in the circumstances I've chosen for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

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Chapter Two  
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Harry stared at the page in utter shock. He could not believe what all was entailed in the oath Ron had suggested. Just barely keeping his breathing under control, he turned to his red-headed friend. "Do you know much about this oath?" he asked, despite them all having discussed the fact that none of them had known much about it at all. Ron and Hermione knew more than he had, i.e. they'd known it existed. He just _had_ to make sure.

Ron looked at him oddly, as if he was suddenly not all there. "I've never read up on it, Harry; you already know that."

Hermione snorted and Ron gave her a faintly dirty look.

"I've only heard about it in the stories Mum used to tell m- Ginny when she was little."

Harry relaxed and shoved the book toward Ron. "I think you should read it," he said, turning to Hermione, the shock and horror he'd initially felt at reading the indepth description returning now that he was reassured that Ron hadn't known just what he was actually suggesting. "I don't want to have _that_ much control over **anyone**!" he told her.

Hermione frowned, quickly standing and rounding the table so she could read over Ron's shoulder. Unfortunately, there had only been one copy of the only book they'd found to contain much of anything about the fealty oath - though, they had found several about oaths in general - so she hadn't been able to read it yet. Harry waited impatiently as they both waded through the unwieldy text, his thoughts chasing themselves as he waited.

There had to be a better choice, he thought morosely, some other way to ensure that Malfoy wouldn't turn on them at some point. He still had trouble believing the Slytherin was honest in his stated desire in the first place - despite the potion - and the existence of the curse simply made him even more uneasy. Something was needed, he knew that much for certain. He didn't need to eventually begin to trust the bloke, then find out he was switching sides yet again. Harry had far too many potentially damaging secrets that needed to be kept at all costs to risk that.

It wasn't all that long, objectively speaking, before Hermione lifted horrified eyes to meet his. "That's positively medieval!" she hissed, her volume only just remaining something close to a whisper.

Harry nodded his agreement, shifting his attention back to Ron, who was still reading.

Ron's head finally lifted, a pensieve frown marring his features. "I wonder if Malfoy knows what exactly this oath entails," he remarked uneasily - the uneasiness something Harry was glad to see. It reaffirmed he'd chosen his friends wisely - despite several bumps along the way.

"Somehow," Hermione replied slowly, "I don't think so."

She immediately had Harry's full attention, and Ron's he noticed peripherally. "Why do you say that?" he asked; though, he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

"Swearing an oath that prevents betrayal and makes sure of protection to both parties is one thing," she answered, "but this level of . . . control is something else entirely. This thing gives you more control of his future life than even the head of his family line."

Ron's eyes widened. "I hadn't thought of that," he whispered faintly.

Harry was just confused. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Surprisingly, it was Ron who answered him this time. "The word of the head of the family line is close to absolute, Harry. They have the power to disinherit anyone in the family, not just their own children. Disobeying the head of line risks just that. If they order you to marry someone specific and you refuse, for example, the can cut you out of the family completely. If that happens, you're generally not allowed to associate with _any_ family member or risk death or _their_ disownment. You're also cut off from all family moneys and contacts. You even lose the right to use the _name_. If they go so far as to magically disinherit you - which is pretty rare these days - you even lose access to the line's magical gifts."

Harry gaped at Ron. "You mean it makes you a _squib_!"

Ron hastily shook his head. "No. Each family has unique gifts - like parseltongue for Slytherin's line."

Hermione leaned forward then. "What Ron's trying to say, is that if you're magically disinherited, rather than just legally, it's as if you were never a member of the family to begin with. Not even a blood test - magical _or_ muggle - would be able to prove you had been. Even heritage potions that show your lineage several generations both ways won't show _anyone_ before you - or after you, if you've already had children."

Harry's eyes widened in absolute shock. "That's harsh," he breathed incredulously.

Ron nodded. "Exactly. So you see why the head of line holds that much power over the family. Of course, there are two versions of the disownment. One _just_ disowns the person; the other disowns them and all their descendants. Personally, I'm not entirely sure which is worse." Ron shook his head before he continued. "Most people _won't_ go against that, Harry. It's way worse than _just_ defying your parents. Your parents can ignore you, they can deny you a place in their home, but they can't make it as if you never existed in the first place."

Harry couldn't imagine a worse fate, short of death. "Is Malfoy risking _that_?"

Ron and Hermione shared a glance before looking back at him and nodding. "Yes, Harry, he is."

"His father is the head of the Malfoy line. I'm not sure if there are any other Malfoys left or not, though."

Harry was having trouble processing it all, but he faced Hermione squarely. "How the bloody hell does this oath create more control over someone than _that_?" he asked, once again mind boggled by it all. He simply didn't see how it was possible.

"Because anyone _can_ defy their head of line, most simply choose not to because of the possible consequences. If Malfoy swears this oath to you, you have the power to dictate the same kinds of things a head of line does, _and_ he cannot refuse without breaking the oath. You've also got rights that have been . . . weeded out of the head of line powers. This is the part that made me say it's medieval, Harry. I don't know how far you read before you quit, but you've got the right to not only choose his future bride for him, or to deny his own choice if or when he makes it, you've also got the right to sleep with the bride before he does!" Hermione's voice took on a rather professor like, lecturing tone as she continued. "Even in the muggle world, back in the feudal era, that was a lord's right with all his vassals

Harry blanched. He hadn't read that far! "That's . . . that's-" he couldn't find the words to express just how horrifying a thought that was."

"It gets worse, Harry."

"Worse?" Harry exclaimed loudly, then winced before he remembered the notice-me-not charms around them. "How?"

"Well, maybe not 'worse' perse," Hermione backtracked, "just, there's more."

Harry took a deep breath, before nodding. "Go ahead what _else_ is there?"

Hermione looked away from him, blushing faintly - a fact that nearly sent Harry into a panic, since the idea of him being able to sleep with Malfoy's hypothetical wife hadn't done it. "You would also have the right to demand that _he_ sleep with you."

Harry blinked, the words not really processing for several long seconds. "That's it," he declared suddenly. "We're finding something different."

Hermione shared another of those odd looks with Ron before turning back to him. "Harry?" she began tentatively, and Harry braced himself for her question, wondering just what kind of question she had that would make her hesitate to demand an answer to. She wasn't exactly a shy wallflower type of girl. If she wanted to know something, she asked. "I know you don't like anything about this oath, but why are you so adamant all of a sudden? Are . . . are you saying you might be . . . um . . . tempted to-"

"No!" he yelped, the moment he figured out where Hermione was headed, blushing furiously. He waited until he could feel the blush begin to fade before he continued. "I just don't like having that kind of absolute power over someone." He shrugged uncomfortably. "You know what they say about power, right, Hermione?"

She nodded, but Ron looked confused.

"What do 'they' say about power?" he asked.

"Power corrupts," Hermione quoted. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Ron's eyes widened and he was obviously lost inside some sort of mental image for several seconds before he nodded abruptly. "I can see it," he said finally, visibly hesitated, then continued. "I wouldn't trust myself with that kind of power, especially over someone I hate as much as I hate Malfoy."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Frankly, I wouldn't want to trust _anyone_ with that much power."

With that, the three of them settled back into research mode. Ron grumbled about it, of course, but even Harry could tell it was only for form's sake.

After nearly an hour, Harry slammed closed the book he was currently reading through. "What if we both swore fealty to each other?" he asked, blurting the words out quickly before he could lose his nerve. He didn't like the idea at all - all things considered - but they hadn't found anything better than the fealty oath, only worse, and it didn't look like they were going to, either.

Hermione shook her head almost instantly, much to Harry's combined relief and disappointment - an odd sensation. "A vassaled lord, which is what you'd be if you accept his oath, cannot be a vassal in turn. The oath won't allow it."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Because your own oath, by its very presence could prevent you from upholding your responsibilities to your vassal."

"Oh." He supposed that made sense.

With a sigh, Hermione closed her own back and slumped back in her chair. "It looks like we're going to have to talk to Malfoy. He might have access to books we don't."

Harry nodded, as did Ron; though, Ron didn't look happy about it.

The three of them gathered up the books and returned them to the shelves before removing the spells hiding them from easy detection and leaving the library.

Harry couldn't help but wonder, with something approaching absolute horror, just how much power he held over the 'vassel' he already had, something he hadn't told either of his friends about. _Damn!_ He was going to have to 'spill the beans' so to speak. Both Hermione and Ron needed to know what was going on. Hermione, of course, knew most of it, just not about Yilmez. With a purely internal wince, knowing Ron's reaction to having been kept in the dark was _not_ going to be good, he stopped and faced his friends. "We have to talk," he told them.

Hermione's eyes widened for a split second before she nodded firmly. "Alright," she replied. "After dinner, room of requirement?"

Harry shook his head. "No, now." He sighed. "Before I lose my nerve." Before Ron could protest that he was hungry, Harry turned toward him. "We'll stop off at the kitchens first and eat while we talk.

x-x-x

Draco was getting very frustrated. It was closing in on dinner time, and he had yet to find a single book that contained any information about the fealty oath Weaselbee had reminded him of, and he needed to find it. He needed to know exactly what he'd be agreeing to if he agreed to swear the oath. While, he remembered reading about it years ago; he hadn't been interested enough at the time to really commit anything about it to memory. He did remember thinking that accepting the oath would be a lot like becoming head of a new line, but that was about it. Well, that and - as with any powerful oath - the consequences of breaking said oath. Depending on the wording the oath breaker would lose either their life or their magic - neither of which appealed to any sensible wizard or witch.

About to give up his search as pathetically useless, Draco gave the shelves one last look-through. Half way through the last shelf in the right section, Draco halted, blinking in surprise as he found several books on oaths. "Those were not there before!" he exclaimed quietly, very certain of his assertion. Frowning, wondering just who had managed to slip past without him noticing to put the bloody books back on the shelf, he took down the five most likely candidates and hurried back to one of the more out of the way tables. He didn't want to be disturbed while he researched.

It didn't take long to find the fealty oath, and an even shorter time after that, he wanted to slam the book closed and adamantly refuse to take it. He was less than half way through reading about the damn thing, and already he hated - no loathed - the very idea of the oath. Things about it he would have had no way of truly understanding as a young child jumped out him now and metaphorically grabbed him by the throat. No way was he swearing this oath to Potter! There _had_ to be another way.

With that thought in mind, he paged back to the beginning of the book and began reading. He read through dinner, vetoing oath after oath as being even worse - either that, or not nearly enough. Some of the oaths were definitely ones he would be willing to swear - especially over that of the fealty oath. Unfortunately, none of them would prevent the very thing they were all looking to prevent - himself included. He wanted to take absolutely no chance that he would end up under the dark lord's power, should the wizard find some dark spell that would increase his power significantly. They were out there, and Draco had no way of knowing whether or not the dark lord had already done them. Most wizards - even dark ones - stopped short of those rituals. There were costs to them that most sane people were not willing to pay, no matter how power hungry they may be. Unfortunately, no one could truthfully accuse the dark lord of being entirely sane.

Even skimming the books and skipping to the next oath the moment he ruled one out, he was not finished reading all of them before it was time for the library to close. Frowning, he considered checking the books out, but decided against it. It would leave too much of a clue as to what he was up to, should the wrong people discover he had them. He carefully put them all up, making sure no one was watching as he did so.

As he walked out into the hall, he wondered if maybe he could actually ask his father what kind of oaths were involved with getting marked, on the pretext of preparing himself for exactly that. Lost in thought, only a small portion of his attention on his surroundings, he made his way down to the dungeons. He had come to no concrete decision before he reached his dorm, well supplied with food from the kitchens. With quite a bit of reluctance, he set aside his current worries to focus on his homework. It wouldn't do to fall behind and make anyone think anything was out of the ordinary for him. Ordinary was the way to escape notice. So, ordinary is what he would be. Well, ordinary for a Malfoy, at any rate. No Malfoy could be considered _ordinary_ in any way.

The time to leave for his meeting with Potter arrived all too quickly, with Draco having finished his homework, but having come no closer to a solution to his dilemma. He'd ruled out thoughts of contacting his father early on in the evening, reminding himself that they would not only never reach the man in time, there would be absolutely no way for a response to get back - even assuming his father replied immediately - something he seriously doubted.

A simple glare was all it took to quell the . . . curiosity of the Slytherins still in the common room about where he was going, and Draco slipped out into the hall, quietly making his way toward that hidden door.

x-x-x

Tension lay heavy between the three of them as they waited, rather impatiently, for Malfoy to arrive. It wasn't that the prat was late. In fact, he wasn't due for another six minutes. No, the tension was residue from the conversation over dinner in the room of requirement. Harry'd been right. Ron had _not_ been pleased Harry had kept something like this from him. Hermione hadn't exactly been happy, either.

The only thing that had come close to calming them down was Harry's quiet explanation that he'd been in 'paranoid panic mode'.

_They both frowned at him._

"What's 'paranoid panic mode', Harry?" Ron asked sharply, looking for all the world like he was torn between storming off and begging Harry to make it all make sense again.

"I was basically jumping at shadows," he replied flatly, "even the hint that any of this would get out would send me into a panic that I was going to lose everyone I cared about because they'd be afraid of me - especially while I had so little control of my powers. The only people who know about the extra power are Dumbledore, Snape, Remus, Pomfrey, and you guys. Not even Remus knows about Yilmez.

"You should know by now you can trust us, Harry," Hermione said softly, hurt shining in her eyes. "We would never turn against you, not for something that wasn't your fault."

Harry couldn't quite stop the half-glance at Ron, who cringed in response, turning dark red.

"I thought we'd moved past that, mate," Ron replied in a near whisper, and Harry wasn't entirely certain whether hurt or anger was Ron's dominant feeling right then.

Harry sighed, frustrated that they weren't understanding him. "We have, Ron. You two are my best friends, the best I've ever had, and probably the best I'll ever _have_." Shaking his head, he turned his body so he was facing Ron squarely. In no way did he want what he was about to say to be taken the wrong way, as it so easily could be. "But that feeling, and the fear that it will happen again, never really goes away, not completely. I wish with everything I am that it would," he continued softly. "I hate it. My head knows the truth, but sometimes, _just_ sometimes, I can't quite believe it with my whole heart, because I also know, you'd be better off without me and part of me keeps waiting for the day when you both will realize that."

Now _that_ provoked a flurry of protests and he rolled his eyes at them, holding onto his frustrated temper by the thinnest of margins. "What you would or wouldn't really do is not the point! This is about how I feel. That's not something that's going to change any time soon, either."

Hermione nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "Only time and experience can do that."

After that, both of them had calmed, somewhat, allowing Harry to calm a bit too. Unfortunately, Hermione'd had no clue what kind of control he would have over Yilmez - should he choose, or need, to assert it. There were simply too many variables. They all knew that it was possible to rebel against the holder of 'the mark', Snape was proof enough of that - or so they _hoped_. What they didn't know, had no way of knowing, was if the magic of 'Harry's mark' was exactly like Voldemort's, or if his mother had changed it in any way. Harry wasn't in any hurry to test it, either. Hermione had said she would see what she could find about the whole thing, though.

He was curious where the two of them were being held . . . for their own protection. Grimmauld Place was out of the question. It would be far too dangerous to the order for them to stay there. Unfortunately, Harry had absolutely no clue where else the order, or Dumbledore, might stash the two men.

He let his eyes stray for a moment before returning his attention to the door. Between him and his friends, now, there was this . . . awareness of wrongs past and of uncertain futures, and he wasn't sure how that was going to play out. He just hoped they could all move passed this, as they had everything else. Harry had never wanted to reveal those feelings of insecurity where their friendship was concerned, simply because he knew damn well that knowing about them had to hurt.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, drawing him instantly out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the door.

"I've been wondering about something you said in 'the room'. You said your mother left you memories, and you told us about one. What was in the others?"

Harry's eyes widened and shock shot through him, his head whipping around, seeming of its own accord, to stare at her. "I . . . don't know," he whispered, not entirely certain he wanted to go anywhere near those other memories. The first one had been beyond devastating. "We didn't watch them then," he admitted. "Since then-" he shrugged helplessly. "Since then, I've just had too much going on and I haven't even thought about them. I've got the one in my trunk."

"Maybe you should," she suggested quietly.

Harry barely kept the very sarcastic, 'you think?' sealed behind his lips. "Yeah," he replied instead, "maybe." He should definitely find out what happened to them at the very least. Even less than he wanted to dive into them right this very minute, did he want someone _else_ doing so. He blanched. Had Dumbledore already done so? He almost ran to find them, right then and there, no longer content without knowing exactly where they were and whose hands kept them. For all he knew _Snape_ had them! He took a single step forward, but froze as the door slowly opened and Malfoy slid outside.

His impulse thoroughly derailed, Harry focused on the subject of this meeting and strode forward with a purpose. It was certainly better than thinking about things he had no control over at the moment.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

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Chapter Three  
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The four of them had long since sat down, this meeting looking like it was going to last far longer than the last. Neither side was remotely interested in the fealty oath as it stood. It simply gave Harry far more power over Malfoy than anyone was comfortable with. Unfortunately, neither side had been able to come up with anything else that would suit.

"Maybe we could, you know, tweak it," Harry suggested tentatively, only to find himself the focus of two very incredulous stares. "What?" he asked, shifting nervously, the weight of their combined stares making him very uncomfortable.

Hermione shook her head - while Malfoy seemed to be biting his tongue. "This is ancient powerful magic, Harry. You can't just tweak it any time you like. It would take _years_ of research before you could be sure you weren't making things way worse."

Harry blinked. "Oh," he replied, surprised.

"Maybe," Ron began, faltering when all three of the others faced him, "Harry could swear a few regular wizard's oaths of his own."

Eyes narrowed, Malfoy leaned forward. "In regard to?" he asked tightly.

Ron blushed almost instantly, and refused to look anyone in the eyes as he replied. "He could, for instance, swear to never demand that you or whoever you choose to marry has to sleep with him."

Malfoy's eyes turned speculative. "That would be a start," he agreed slowly.

Harry was nearly at his wits end before the four of them managed to come to a compromise that they all could live with - if not actually make them completely comfortable. He and Malfoy, both, had wanted several more oaths sworn to limit Harry's power. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, were both for him swearing as few as possible - though, their reasons were vastly different.

"If you swear too many oaths abrogating the rights of the oath holder, Harry, you could very well completely destabilize the oath itself, making the swearing of it in the first place completely moot. It's best to limit your promises to only the most . . . extreme of your rights."

He had to admit, she did have a point. One look to Malfoy proved that he, too, reluctantly agreed with her assessment.

In the end, they agreed that he would swear a single oath not to make use of any of his rights as the oath holder that a head of line did not still hold. He would keep all of the ones they still did, however, if for no other reason than to prevent Malfoy's father from holding those rights over Malfoy. Once the oath was sworn, the elder Malfoy couldn't even magically disown his own son because it would devalue the 'vassal'. He couldn't even do it legally. He could, however, simply designate a different direct heir apparently - assuming he had another child to bestow that position on. That would bar Malfoy from inheriting the estates, and the entailed monies, but not completely cut him off, and, of course, he would still be entitled to use the Malfoy name and family magics.

Harry was surprised that Malfoy didn't seem very worried about the last possibility. He didn't ask about it, however, reasonably sure it just might be a touchy subject. It certainly would be for him if he were to find himself in Malfoy's position.

He shook his head in bemusement, certain he'd learned more about wizarding family politics in this one meeting, than he had the entire rest of the time he'd known about the wizarding world. It was a little surreal.

"So, we're all set then?" Hermione asked, glancing pointedly between him and Malfoy.

Wanting to say no, that he'd never be 'set' for this, Harry nodded firmly. "Yes."

Malfoy took a deep breath before he, too, nodded once. "Yes," he replied evenly.

"The oath itself is actually very simple to invoke," Hermione said, keeping her eyes directly on Harry as she spoke. "Malfoy will speak the words of fealty to you, Harry, which the two of you will have to agree on, swearing by either his magic or his life, or both."

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed. "You mean he could lose his magic instead of his life?"

"Yes, if that's how you choose to word the fealty oath."

"I'd rather lose my life, thanks," Malfoy replied with a visible shudder. "I couldn't live without my magic."

"All the better," Ron said suddenly, startling Harry.

He frowned, and completely ignored the glare that Malfoy sent Ron's way. "What do you mean?"

"You don't want to feel responsible for his death if he betrays the oath," Ron began looking pointedly at him.

He nodded. He'd certainly protested it enough to make _that_ pretty clear.

Ron then turned to Malfoy and continued. "And you would prefer losing your life to losing your magic."

"And?" Harry urged impatiently - they all knew this already - surprised to find his word said in unison with Malfoy's.

Ron rolled his eyes. "It means, if he _does_ betray the oath, you won't have to feel responsible for his death, because he won't die, and it would also be a greater inducement for him not to betray the oath in the first place." Ron shuddered. "I certainly would rather die than lose _my_ magic. I wouldn't know the first thing about surviving without it.

Harry blinked at him several times before shaking himself free of his surprise. "Remind me to make sure any children I may have learn how to play chess, would you Ron?"

Ron burst out laughing and shook his head, looking a little bemused. "Sure thing, Harry."

Harry turned to Malfoy and waited. Ultimately, it was up to Malfoy; he was the one that wanted the 'alliance' in the first place - though, Harry wasn't averse to it either. It would certainly make things easier. Harry did wonder, however, if this would be the breaking point of the whole thing. Now that he knew he didn't have to require Malfoy's life, he wasn't going to allow it to be part of the oath and he wasn't sure whether Malfoy would allow it to be his magic.

"You're not going to let me choose life, are you?" Malfoy asked, a hint of his old sneer surfacing for just a brief moment.

Harry shook his head. "I refuse to be responsible for someone else's death if I can possibly prevent it."

Malfoy leapt to his feet, glaring. "How can it be your responsibility," he snapped angrily, "when it would be my choice _and_ would be the direct consequences of my actions?"

Harry shrugged, tilting his head to the side as he looked up at the very irate Slytherin. "As I understand it, the liege lord is _always_ responsible for the vassal," he replied quietly. This was something he actually _got_. He understood this type of the thing to the very core of his being. You protected those who were your responsibility; family, children, and in a case like this, vassals. Nothing would sway him from that opinion - not even the wrath of a Malfoy.

Malfoy slumped almost immediately, the words, apparently, striking a chord deep inside him. "I suppose," he drawled. "It's rather a moot point, anyway, since I have no intention of betraying the oath in the first place."

Harry nodded in response, taking it as the agreement he knew it was. It also didn't take a genius to see that the other boy's almost flippant words were pure bravado. No one called him on it, however, not even Ron, much to Harry's complete surprise.

Malfoy sat and took a deep breath. "Better sooner rather than later," he said quietly, continuing in a mutter almost too quiet to hear, "before I lose my nerve."

After that, it took only moments to finish finalizing the wording of both their oaths, and both acceptances. Once they were finished with that, Harry was very surprised to discover that no other fancy ritualistic preparations needed to be done. Hermione hadn't been kidding when she'd said the oath taking ritual was simple. It would only be him and Malfoy directly involved, with Hermione and Ron acting as witnesses - the only necessary outside element involved in either oath.

Malfoy knelt before him without any sort of fanfare, reaching both hands out toward him as supplicant, palms up, before beginning his oath.

"Here, in the presence of witnesses, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir to the grand and ancient Malfoy name, swear by mouth and hand, fealty and service to Lord Harry James Potter, head of the ancient and honorable house of Potter, head of the ancient and noble house of Black and all he rules. I so swear on my magic, that I will from now on, henceforth and ever more be faithful to his concerns, never intentionally causing him harm; not by deed, not by word, nor by inaction of word or deed.

Magic swirled around the Slytherin growing with each word he spoke, making him glow faintly in the darkness surrounding them.  
"Should I ever find myself foresworn, I hereby lay down my magic as if it never was, to live the rest of my life without its use."

The previously swirling magic, shot forward into a ball and hovered in the air between them, waiting.

"Here, in the presence of witnesses, I, Lord Harry James Potter, do hereby accept the oath of fealty of one Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of an ancient and respected lineage, and so swear, as his lord, ongoing succour and sanctuary, and to send protection and aid in times of need."

The ball of magic, flashed and shot toward Harry, splashing against him, covering him in the same glow for only a moment before sinking inside. He shivered briefly at the odd feeling before continuing with his own oath.

"Additionally," Harry continued, his voice a bit hoarse, his eyes wide, "I hereby swear my own oath to treat Draco Lucius Malfoy as more than mere vassal, to treat him, instead, as blood of my blood, limiting my own rights over him to those held by right of head of line."

A bright flash of light shot upward from his chest, nearly blinding him, only to hover above them, halfway between himself and Malfoy, waiting - just as the first one had.  
"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shouted. "Do you have any idea what you've just done!"

He blinked in her direction - at least he thought it was in her direction. With all the spots he was seeing from two separate flashes of light in the darkness, he could very well be staring at Professor McGonagall, for all he could tell. "What we said I would?" he replied uncertainly. He knew the words weren't _exactly_ what they'd agreed on, but this had sounded better. After all, what he'd said was that he'd treat him like he would anyone else he was head of line for. What could possibly be wrong with that?

As his vision cleared, the gobsmacked looks on all three of the faces staring at him, almost made him wish he could go back to not seeing very well. It was more than a bit . . . unsettling. He slumped, and turning to face Hermione squarely, he tried to smile; though, he wasn't entirely sure just how successful he was. "What did I do now?" he asked quietly, ready to hear what trouble he'd caused now by not following the plan exactly. When was he going to learn not to _do_ that? It always seemed to get him in trouble.

"You've just made yourself his head of line. You've all but _adopted_ him, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice - less politely - a near screech.

All he could do was blink at her for several long seconds. "I . . . what?" he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione huffed. "Blood of your blood, Harry. You magically made him family." She frowned. "If he accepts the oath."

Malfoy's eyes never left him, from where the Slytherin was kneeling on the ground in front of him. "What will happen if I don't accept?" he asked, his voice sounding as if he felt as shaken as Harry did.

"If you don't, the oath dissipates, as with all oaths of this nature."

Malfoy nodded, looking like he'd expected as much.

"Of course, if you don't accept, no other oaths can be added to this one and the fealty oath will need to stand as is. The fealty oath and all associated oaths must be sworn back to back without break."

"That's what I thought," Malfoy muttered. Taking a deep breath, he prompted her to continue. "And if I do accept?"

"Until such time as Harry has or designates heirs, you will most likely become his heir apparent; definitely for the Black line - since you're a Black descendent anyway, and probably the Potter line as well."

Malfoy was silent for several tense seconds. "And my own line?" he asked tightly.

It was Hermione's turn to blink in surprise. "I," she began, then faltered. "I don't know." She frowned, shaking her head. "None of the oaths said anything about forsaking familial ties, so it _shouldn't_ interfere," she continued slowly, "but, without further research, there's no way I could be certain it wouldn't remove you completely from the Malfoy family line."

"Who would know for sure?" Harry demanded sharply, his words directed at all of them. "I have absolutely no intention - accidently or not - of depriving Malfoy of his rightful heritage!"

"Professor Snape," Hermione replied almost instantly, then reluctantly added, "or Professor Dumbledore."

Harry cringed at the thought of pulling Dumbledore into this. Even with the trouble he would bring down on them by bringing Snape into this - which he was certain would include loss of _lots_ of points and detention through graduation - he'd still prefer the potions professor. He almost laughed. The detentions would last far beyond graduation if Snape could figure out a way to enforce it, Harry was sure. "Ron," he barked out, "go get Snape." This was a little more important than whether or not they won the house cup.

"No!" Malfoy yelped, gaining Harry's instant attention, and freezing Ron halfway to the door.

"Why?" he asked, frowning, surprised at Malfoy's response.

He watched as Malfoy fought with himself for only a few seconds before slumping. "He's a deatheater, Potter."

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, never taking his eyes off Malfoy. "Is the fealty oath already active?"

"Yes, Harry, it is active regardless of what happens with this secondary oath. You had already accepted it before beginning your own."

"Go, Ron."

Ron ran out the door before Malfoy could protest further, but that didn't stop the blond from glaring up at him. "Are you an absolute idiot! he demanded.

Harry arched an eyebrow at Malfoy, smirking at him.

"With all due respect," Malfoy ground out. "He's going to take this information straight to the dark lord!"

"No, Malfoy," Harry replied carefully, "I don't believe he will." He didn't want to give away secrets not his to give, but he also wanted to reassure the Slytherin that he wasn't completely out of his mind. "Deatheater or not, he would definitely have trouble explaining how we all disappeared, should he choose to do such a thing." There! That ought to do it, he thought proudly.

Malfoy's eyes widened, his jaw falling open in the most gobsmacked look that Harry had ever seen on _any_ Slytherin; though the look quickly cleared.

"How can you be so bloody sure!"

Harry shrugged. He wasn't about to say anything about it out loud, not here where there was even the slightest possibility of being overheard - despite the privacy spells they had going already. It still wasn't his secret to risk or reveal.

"I can't believe you changed the words without talking about it first, Harry," Hermione chided. "I told you before, you can't just change things like this on a whim!"

Harry winced. "I'm sorry, alright!" he snapped. "I believed it more in line with what we were trying to achieve here, in promising not to abuse the authority he's willingly giving me."

"Gryffindor," Malfoy muttered with a sound that was a laugh that tried to pass itself off as a derisive snort.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

Hermione sighed. "When you're right, Harry, you're right," she replied quietly.

Harry's brain stopped at that completely unexpected comment, just plain stopped. It took a second to start up again. "Say what?"

"Don't get used to it!" she snapped, half laughing as she shook her head. "Everyone knows how you feel about family. By making him family, it certainly assures you won't abuse him in any way, regardless of the rest of the oath preventing you from doing so." She shook her head a second time. "It's just that you've . . . "

"Made things more difficult?" he asked.

"Made _what_ more difficult, Potter?" Snape snapped from the opposite direction they'd expected him from - not to mention far sooner - making all three of them jump. "Just what in Merlin's name is going on here?" he demanded, angrily striding towards them from the grounds. "Mr. Malfoy, get up off the ground!"

Even before Harry could speak, Malfoy shook his head.

"I can't, Sir," he replied evenly; though, Harry could hear fear in the Slytherin's voice, "not until I accept or refuse Potter's oath."

"Oath?" Snape bellowed, turning as red as Uncle Vernon usually did just before letting loose with a particularly vengeful rant. It didn't reassure Harry at all, despite all the progress they'd made this year, and it took all of his Gryffindor courage to remain where he was and not disrupt the ritual oath-taking. Even he knew that could have disastrous consequences.

Hermione stepped forward, but before she could even begin to explain what was going on, Ron came pelting through the door at near full speed. "I couldn't find- Oh! He's here."

Snape's head snapped around, seemingly all of his attention suddenly focused on Ron - though, Harry doubted reality was anywhere near what it seemed. Snape wouldn't forget about them, not for a second.

"Eep!"

"You sent him looking for _me_, Potter?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yes, Sir," Hermione replied quietly, quickly moving on to explain exactly what was happening before the professor could verbally - or maybe even not so verbally - roast them.

Even in this light, Harry could see the rage simmering in the professor's eyes, and he wondered whether this would be the complete end of everything they'd managed to gain between them. He hoped not. The professor still had a lot to teach him, things Harry needed to learn. Not to mention the fact that now that the professor wasn't berating him with every bloody breath, Harry was beginning to respect the man.

"Tell me _exactly_ what was sworn by both of them," Professor Snape demanded.

Hermione quickly hauled out their notes that contained the exact wording they'd used for the fealty oath and the acceptance, handing them to the irate wizard.

Casting a quick _lumos_, Professor Snape read through the paper, frowning. "I won't yet comment on the . . . idiocy of this," he snapped. "Just tell me what Potter did wrong."

"Not wrong, per se, Professor," Hermione began.

"Get on with it!"

Hermione jumped, letting out a slight squeak. "Yes, Sir," she whispered. "The 'problem' is in the oath Harry swore after his acceptance of Malfoy's fealty oath. Instead of just swearing a wizard's oath not to use certain of the powers granted him by Malfoy's fealty, he- Well, what he said was-"

"Don't repeat it! We don't want you doing the same thing!"

"No Sir, of course not. I was going to leave off the swearing part, and just relate what he swore to do."

"Very well, Miss Granger. Get on with it then."

She did, quickly relating word for word what Harry had said, minus the 'I hereby swear' part.

Harry grit his teeth against the muttered insults about Gryffindor idiocy and questions regarding Harry's brain matter - or rather his lack there of - and waited.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape sneered, "do you intend to accept or reject his oath?"

"That's why we were looking for you, Sir," Malfoy replied quietly.

The professor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if all this was giving him a headache - or making an existing one worse. "Explain."

"If I accept his oath, will I still be a Malfoy?"

The professor reared back a bit, obviously surprised by the question, but then his nearly perpetual frown deepened as his eyes narrowed in thought. It was several moments before he replied.

"I do not believe that it would affect your status as a Malfoy," he began slowly, clearly phrasing his words carefully. "Although Mr. Potter will, in effect, be making you of his line, I would compare it more closely to a marriage than an adoption," he concluded, his frown slowly morphing into a smirk.

"What?" both Harry and Malfoy yelped.

"In that case," Malfoy continued, his voice high pitched and panicky. "I rej-"

"SILENCE, Mr. Malfoy," Snape shouted. "I _said_," he continued in a more normal tone of voice, "it was _closer_ to a marriage than an adoption. I did not say that it _was_ a marriage. Stop acting like a bloody Gryffindor and learn to _listen_ before you act; it will save you a world of disasters in the future."

"How, exactly does it compare to a marriage, Professor?" Hermione asked quietly, heading off the possible argument before it could truly get started.

"It is more a combining of the two families, rather than divorcing Mr. Malfoy from his previous one. The latter actually takes far more sophisticated magic than the powerful, yet relatively simple oaths you dunderheads have taken tonight."

Harry bristled against the insult even as he noticed Malfoy do the same, but neither of them responded verbally to it. It seemed that not even Malfoy was willing to do anything that might anger the tetchy professor more than he already was. Of course, Harry thought with a purely mental shrug, Malfoy probably still hadn't been fully reassured that the professor wouldn't haul them all directly to the dark lord for this.

"Decide, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape snapped. "The time for lengthy thinking has already passed you by. Either become part of the _golden boy's_ family, or take the risk that he'll take advantage of the rights you've thrown away! The oath won't wait forever, taking your choice away from you completely."

Harry jerked his full attention back to Malfoy - well, as much of it as he could with the professor hovering _right there_ - and waited nervously for the Slytherin's response. He wasn't entirely certain which way he wanted the blond to decide. One way, he'd just made himself family with the ferret. The other way, he risked that 'absolute power' stuff that he had been trying so hard to avoid in the first place - all because he couldn't bloody well stick to the script.

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do hereby accept the oath of blood ties of Lord Harry James Potter, thereby agreeing to accept his decisions as is his right as head of line."

The hovering ball of light that represented the oath, shot forward as if released from a sling, dispersing instantly, the moment it touched Malfoy, making the Slytherin seem to glow for several seconds before it disappeared completely.

"Not above ad-libbing yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" the professor interjected drily.

The Slytherin winced slightly, even as Harry stepped forward and held out his hands to help Malfoy up off his knees.

Malfoy hesitated for only the briefest of moments before accepting the help and allowing Harry to pull him to his feet; though the movement lacked a bit in grace. He blushed lightly in the glow of the professor's lumos. "My feet are asleep," he muttered.

Ron snorted, and the sound seemed to wake the professor from whatever contemplative mood he'd been in.

"One hundred points each from Gryffindor for the too numerous to mention rules you've broken tonight!" he snapped. "And two weeks of detention. One hundred and fifty points from _you_ Mr. Malfoy for the idiocy of having agreed to this in the first place!"

"Furthermore, I'll see you, Mr. Malfoy, in my office directly after your last class tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir," Malfoy replied faintly.

"Potter! _You,_ will come with me now."

Harry gulped, not liking the idea at all. He really would prefer it if the professor had time to calm down before talking to him. That, and he really would like the time to figure out just how to explain his reasoning, _without_ giving away Malfoy's secrets - and without ending up as nothing more than an anonymous smear on Snape's office wall.

"You three get to bed!" he roared, startling all four of them into jumping. "If any of you are still in my sight more than 20 seconds from now, I'll double the points taken _and_ the detentions!"

Harry watched, somewhat sullenly as all three of the others scrambled for the door, heading for their dormitories at top speed. They could discuss the rest of it all later, as in tomorrow, he supposed. It wasn't like Snape was going to let them finish now, anyway. He just wished he was going with them.

x-x-x

Severus slumped back into his chair and let his head drop back against the head rest. The heat of the flickering fire in front of him warmed him through as he struggled to come to terms with what he had heard tonight, as well as with he _hadn't_ learned. He was far more tempted than he had in a very long time to imbibe a rather healthy - or perhaps the more correct word would be unhealthy - amount of alcohol on a night when he had to up early to teach the brats. This year had been one of the most confusing Severus could easily recall to mind. Oh there had been ones far more harrowing, chaotic, even frightening - every year of Potter's attendance at Hogwarts came readily to mind - but none so confusing.

This year, things Severus had held to be utter and incontrovertible truths were being turned upside down on a regular basis. Frankly, the surprises could stop any time and it wouldn't hurt his feelings one tiny little bit!

The whole sordid tale had come tumbling out of Potter's mouth once they were alone, the boy seemingly anxious to get the meeting over with.

__

"And if it had been poisoned, Mr. Potter?" he sneered upon hearing of their testing methods.

"We thought of that, Sir," Potter replied quickly. "Well, Ron did, anyway."

_Weasley!_

"Hermione figured out why it wouldn't be," Potter continued, repeating the girl's explanation before he could vocalize his disbelief, driving this night further into the surreal for Severus. He'd certainly never thought to see sound and logical thinking from teenaged Gryffindors - and definitely not this particular batch. He did have to admit, if only to himself, that Granger had narrowed down Slytherin self-interest to its finest with her line of reasoning. It sparked a very uncomfortable thought. Where would she have been sorted had she not been muggleborn. Up until this very moment, he'd always thought the only other place that would possibly be suitable would be Ravenclaw. But now. . . .

Slytherin house didn't consist solely of the 'purest of the pure', and even the occasional half-blood could boast belonging, himself being a prime example, but never muggleborns.

Following swiftly on the heels of that little shocker had been the information that it had also been Weasley who had thought of the fealty oath in the first place, as well as the return limiting oath, once they'd discovered just how . . . all encompassing the fealty oath truly was. He was going to have to completely reassess his thoughts on the youngest of the Weasley boys. The hothead of Gryffindor was beginning to show a rather surprising aptitude for strategy, of all things. He just wished he dared to foster it openly.

Severus shook his head, sighing. What was the world coming to? he wondered silently.

Draco Malfoy willingly swearing a fealty oath to _Potter_! It was of a kind with the things that signalled the end of the world.

A Weasley Gryffindor - rather redundant, that - showing hints of an ability to actually _think_.

Potter showing equally disturbing signs of Slytherin cunning by all but adopting 'the prince of Slytherin' into his family. Utterly mind boggling.

But just what was their world coming to when _children_ began using veritaserum on each other and requiring such powerfully binding oaths? Another, even more unwelcome thought wormed its way to his conscious mind. _Potter now has **two** bound followers. How did the dark lord start out?_

Abruptly sitting forward, Severus stared into the fire through narrowed eyes as he organized his thoughts. Some of their reasoning certainly made sense, but there was an element missing, something Potter hadn't seen fit to pass on to him. Unfortunately, he was unutterably certain that whatever that element was, it was a doozy. He was equally positive that it was something that was going to come back around to bite him in the arse if he didn't figure out what it was.

Potter's response to his accusation that he was keeping something from him floated through his mind.

_You're right. There are other reasons, but not all are mine to share._

Not his to share? That made no sense to Severus. _Unless. . . ._ Was it some secret of Draco Malfoy's that had prompted the 'golden trio' to go through with the rituals?

And on _that_ note, Severus moaned. He had no clue what Lucius was going to do in response to this, beyond the fact that it wasn't going to be pretty. It just might even make the dark lord's response seem tame. He frowned, reviewed the thought, then shook his head. No, not even in this could Lucius top the dark lord.

All he was truly sure of was that tonight had been such an absolutely, _unbelievably_, outrageous mixture of Slytherin cunning and Gryffindor bullheadedness that he couldn't make heads or tails of whether or not it would end up being a good thing.

"Just _how_ did I end up so bloody entwined with a Potter anyway?" he asked himself out loud, wishing, for once, that the quiet solitude of his quarters might actually give him a reasonable answer to such an unreasonable question. It didn't, however, and that left him to figure it out on his own. He smirked. Perhaps he would be able to weasel it out of Draco Malfoy, since he was reasonably sure it was that Slytherin's secret that Potter was keeping. He had any number of ways of getting information from his brat of a godson.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

AN: Thanks to everyone that reviewed! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. One more chapter to go in this episode.

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Chapter Four  
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Harry was making his way from Defense to Transfiguration, with Ron and Hermione on one side, when he felt someone bump into him. While that wasn't particularly unusual, what _was_, was the hand he felt pressing something into his. He instinctively closed his fingers around it, praying fiercely it wasn't a bloody port key.

"Watch where you're going, _Potter_," Malfoy snapped. "You don't own the hallways."

Even before Harry could snap his mouth shut, or Ron could let out his first rant against the Slytherin, said Slytherin was already several yards down the corridor. Harry blinked, then snorted, shaking his head as he slipped the small piece of parchment into his pocket. Obviously, it wasn't something he was going to pull out and read here. He'd have to find a private moment to do so. He just wondered what the hell Malfoy could possibly have to say to him this soon after their last meeting that was so urgent it couldn't wait for a slightly less _public_ venue to deliver.

"Bloody Slytherin prat!" Ron snapped, nearly growling. "I told you Harry. He'll never change. Not even-"

Harry 'accidently' stomped on his foot, cutting off whatever his friend was going to say, because he really didn't think it was a good thing to be saying right here and now.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?"

"Sorry," he quipped lightly. "We better hurry, we don't want to lose points for being late."

As he hurried forward, he could clearly hear Ron's muttered, "How'm I supposed to do that, when I can barely walk?"

Harry snickered, knowing full well, he hadn't stepped down _that_ hard. He shot a glance over his shoulder, however, and frowned. Ron was limping on _both_ sides. Harry shot a startled look to Hermione, who ducked sheepishly and shrugged. Harry snorted and shook his head. Deciding that right now, silence really was the better part of valor - as the saying sort of went - and hurried into the classroom, taking a seat without saying a word.

By the time Ron made it to his seat, McGonagall flicked her wand and the door shut. "Hand in your essays on the dos and don'ts of basic human transfiguration."

"He bloody well ran into _you_, Harry," Ron whispered fiercely as the class all pulled out their essays.

"I know, Ron," Harry replied just as quietly, grabbing Ron and Hermione's essays together with his own and passing them forward.

"Now, who can tell me the first three don'ts of human transfiguration?"

A flurry of hands went up.

Beside him, Ron subsided into a sullen silence and their first lesson on human transfiguration began. Ron didn't talk much, glaring at both him and Hermione throughout the session.

x-x-x

Harry dropped onto the couch in Gryffindor common room, glad beyond belief that classes were over for the day. Ron had taken off the moment the last class had ended, and Hermione had gone to the library to get the books she wanted for her homework that night. It left Harry alone - relatively speaking - for the first time that day, finally enabling him to pull out Malfoy's note and find out what the bloody hell the blond wanted.

Potter,

I demand request your presence during my meeting with Professor Snape. I have no intention of ending up at the mercy of - someone who will remain nameless - just because of your too naive nature.

Malfoy

Short and to the point, Harry thought with a laugh, even as he leapt off the couch. As he recalled, Snape had ordered Malfoy's presence directly at the end of classes. If he wanted to get there in time, he'd have to run. He just hoped he didn't run into any professors - or Filch - on the way.

"Where's the fire, Harry?" Colin asked as Harry shot passed him and out the exit.

"I'm late!" was all Harry called back, not even bothering to slow down.

Too many floors and three shortcuts later - about 10 minutes - Harry skid to a stop just outside Professor Snape's office. There, waiting impatiently, was Malfoy. The Slytherin's head shot up at his rather abrupt appearance.

"About time!" Malfoy snapped, frowning; though, Harry had not missed the brief flash of relief that the Slytherin had swiftly hidden.

Harry shrugged. "Didn't get the privacy to read the note until after classes ended," he replied quietly. "You do realize, he's not going to allow me to stay, don't you?" Harry whispered as Malfoy knocked sharply on the wooden door.

"Don't you know anything, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "He has no choice. You are now my head of line. You have the right to attend any private meetings between myself and any of my professors, including the headmaster."

Harry blinked in shock, that feeling overriding Malfoy's tone. He hadn't known that. Sighing, he realized he was seriously going to have to find out just what his rights and responsibilities were, now that he was a head of line that actually had someone besides himself in it. Before, it hadn't seemed so important. He seriously doubted that Dumbledore would have allowed him to exercise any of them even if he _had_ known what rights he had. The man controlled more about his life than just his schooling. Which, now that he really thought about it, was kind of weird. Even given the man the fact that he was also head of the order, what right did that give him to tell Harry where he was living in the summers. Legally speaking, Harry was pretty sure it wasn't any of his business. Never before now had Harry even thought about the fact that since he was the only Potter left, he was, by default, head of line; never wondered what that might mean for him. Now, though, he was _directly_ responsible for someone else's welfare and he intended to make sure he knew what he could and he couldn't do about that, legally.

He shrugged mentally. Not that he wouldn't go to illegal extremes if that's what it took, but if he was going to do something that was illegal, he wanted it to be on purpose, not because he didn't know any better. That had already gotten him into more trouble than he cared to think about. Well, that and he really didn't fancy being worried about stepping over a line that didn't exist in the first place, either. He wanted to know exactly where that line was.

"Come in."

Harry took a deep breath, surprised to see that Malfoy was doing the same before opening the door and walking into his head of house's office. If he'd really thought about it, he supposed he'd have realized that Malfoy would be nervous about this meeting. Malfoy knew Snape was a deatheater, and probably wasn't going to believe _anyone_ that told him he didn't have to worry about that. Only the professor himself, by his actions, was going to convince the Slytherin that he wasn't going to be forcibly hauled before the dark lord for his 'betrayal'.

Snape rose as they entered, his perpetual scowl deepening the moment he lay eyes on Harry. "I do not recall requesting your presence, Potter," Snape snapped angrily. "Leave."

"I'm not here as your student, Professor," Harry said carefully. He wasn't entirely certain how to address the professor in this situation, but tried to balance the fact that he didn't want to appear subservient by using 'sir', but didn't want to antagonize the man any more than his mere unwanted presence already would by leaving off all honorifics. Professor was a nice middle ground as far as he was concerned. "I'm here as M-Draco's head of line."

Shock flew across the professor's face, remaining visible about as long as the relief had on Malfoy's, before he drew himself up to his full, rather intimidating, height. "Amazing," he sneered disdainfully, "you actually read something pertaining to the world you live in."

_Not yet,_ Harry thought sourly, _but I will._ He wasn't even certain whether Malfoy's father would have addressed the professor formally, or whether he'd have used the man's given name - not that Harry would _dare_ to do that! He was suddenly being forcefully introduced to the fact that he really did know very, very little about the wizarding world as a whole, and that was not sitting very well. He vowed to himself to rectify that situation as soon as possible. _For now, I'm just going to have to wing it._

"As _enjoyable_ as this repartee is, Potter," Snape snarled. "This isn't a school matter, so doesn't concern you in the slightest. I wish to speak privately with my godson."

_What? Snape is Malfoy's godfather?_

That put an entirely different spin on things, and Harry no longer felt on even remotely solid ground. He wouldn't have wanted anyone forcing their way into a meeting between him and Sirius.

_Malfoy asked you to come._

Harry's eyes narrowed. How the bloody hell was he supposed to do this without unduly angering one or both of them? Thankfully, the professor continued, providing him with the answer - though, he suspected it wasn't what Snape had intended to do.

"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy can assure you that your presence is neither required, nor wanted."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe so," he replied evenly, "but I'm not even going to ask."

Over the next few minutes, Harry wasn't entirely certain what was more insulting, the professor's enraged diatribe, or Malfoy's narrow-eyed, angry look.

"Enjoying the power already, are you, Potter?" Snape spat angrily. "I should have known you would revert to type the moment you had the least amount of power. So like your strutting, arrogant father!"

He didn't know how he did it, considering those kinds of comparisons to the James Potter that Snape had known were usually the single fastest way to trigger the worst of his temper, but Harry didn't rage back. He merely shook his head, keeping the hurt and disappointment deep inside, wrapping it up and burying it deeply. "I have absolutely no intention of putting Draco in that position."

Now _that_ seemed to confuse Malfoy - if his expression was anything to judge by. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to affect the professor's snit at all.

"And just what position would _that_ be, Potter - being alone in the presence of family who actually cares about his wellbeing, as opposed to what they can get out of them?"

Harry gasped, profound hurt swamping through him. He felt the energy that he'd successfully controlled for most of the term rise so abruptly, the hairs on his body stood on end with it, making it a nearly tangible force in the room. The hurt swiftly turned to anger and he hurled it back at the professor; though, in a way that surprised Harry.

"Not that I would know what that was like," he drawled evenly, his eyes locking with Snape's.

_What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!_ he silently screamed at himself, even as he couldn't stop the words from coming.

"But no, that's not what I meant. Not knowing ahead of time exactly what he feels about the situation, I refuse to possibly put him in the position of having to choose between his own comfort and well being, and alienating his godfather. And if you'd stop and actually think about it, Professor, instead of instantly putting the worst possible connotation to my motives, you might realize just why he might - hypothetically speaking, of course - feel that way."

_Whoo Hoo! You go Harry Potter!_ Harry thought with rather vindictive glee.

"Not that I'm even pretending to know what he's feeling about this whole situation," Harry continued smoothly, once again pushing the hurt out of the way. This wasn't about him. This was about Malfoy and no way did he want Malfoy to think he was 'ratting him out'. Let the professor think this was Harry's idea. It was better that way, because, in a way, the professor was right. Malfoy needed someone who cared about him specifically - everyone did. No sense in alienating the two of them from each other unnecessarily

The professor's stance didn't relax the slightest, but on the bright side, the man hadn't physically - or magically - thrown him from the room yet, either. The night he'd stolen into the man's pensieve came instantly to mind as a prime example. Well, he supposed, _technically_ the man hadn't actually thrown him out - magically or otherwise - just what he _had_ thrown would have hurt had it actually connected.

Snape's glaring stare turned speculative for the second time, and as far as Harry was concerned it was just as disturbing this time as it had been last time. He just wished he knew what he'd said this time that sparked it - not that he knew what had sparked it the first time either.

"Very well, Potter," Snape drawled, the sneer never once leaving his face or his words, "what shall I say to ease your pitiful excuse for a mind?"

"Words are very easy to say, Professor," Harry replied, thinking uncomfortably of all the things people had offered or promised him, but had never followed through on - for one reason or another. "Actions speak much louder, and are far more convincing."

_Wow!_ Harry thought, _I can't believe I'm saying this right._ He really didn't know how, or why, the words were coming, he was just glad they were. He wasn't about to out either the professor or Malfoy, but he also wasn't going to let Malfoy down, either.

_Right!_ a snide voice inside him drawled, sarcasm dripping from the silent word, _like you didn't already out the professor._

Harry shook the thought away angrily. He hadn't. He'd only implied that Malfoy would be safe from him, not a thing more!

_Got yourself convinced, yet?_

Snarling wordlessly, Snape spun and strode away from them, distracting Harry from his silent argument. "Come," he snapped, clearly expecting them to follow.

They did so, Harry wishing with everything he was that he knew how to convince Malfoy that it really was safe for him to be alone with his godfather. He wasn't comfortable intruding like this, and he was sure neither of the others were all that comfortable with it either, despite that fact that he was only here at Malfoy's request.

They passed through a door hidden in the professor's office that Harry had never noticed before and suddenly found himself at a complete loss.

_I'm in Professor Snape's quarters!_ he thought in near panic. _I don't belong here!_

"Sit!" Professor Snape barked, making Harry jump and immediately look for somewhere acceptable to sit. Somehow, he didn't think dropping down onto the floor right where he was would impress anyone - himself included - with his nonchalance.

Malfoy, on the other hand, Harry thought bitterly, looked utterly at home. Choosing to sit as far from the other two that he could - without it being obvious enough that a first year could see it - to give them at least a semblance of privacy, Harry sat and tried to blend into the background.

"Why?" Professor Snape snapped almost the moment Malfoy was seated.

Harry immediately bristled. This was looking more like an interrogation than a 'meeting with caring family'. He did notice, however, that Malfoy didn't seem bothered by the question or the tone, so he forced himself to sit back and try to relax.

He let Malfoy's words, most of which he'd already heard, wash over him without really paying attention. This really was none of his business. He was just here for Malfoy's piece of mind. It did make him wonder why Malfoy was so sure he'd ultimately win against Voldemort, though. The Slytherin sounded so certain of it. He wasn't entirely certain just how much time had passed, but he was just about ready to go stir crazy when he heard Dumbledore's name mentioned, instantly snagging his attention back to the conversation between the two.

"No," Malfoy said firmly.

_No to what?_

"Mr- Draco," Snape urged, "the headmaster can protect you. Potter cannot. He can barely protect-"

"I said no, Professor," Malfoy repeated, shaking his head. "I did not choose to side with Dumbledore. I don't trust anyone who is so blatantly biased against Slytherins."

"And Potter isn't?" the professor exclaimed incredulously.

"No," Malfoy replied evenly, "I don't believe he is, at least, not as much as Dumbledore is."

"Professor Dumbledore, Draco."

Malfoy huffed irritably. "Fine, I don't think Harry Potter is nearly as biased against Slytherins as the headmaster is."

Harry was listening intently now. As a general rule, he really didn't like Slytherins. He really had yet to meet one that was actually likeable. Why would Malfoy assume otherwise?

"How could you have _possibly_ reached that conclusion logically?" the professor sneered.

"One of the first things I did this year, after deciding on my course of action, was declare a rather one sided cease-fire. Only thing is, nearly the moment I did, it wasn't so one-sided after all. I backed off, he backed off. So, I took it a step further and tried being polite and got politeness back, _just_ like I would have received from any Slytherin. Of course, it wouldn't have progressed nearly as quickly."

Snape snorted, making Harry frown. What had been so funny about that?

"Yes, Gryffindors are notoriously naive," he drawled.

Malfoy laughed.

Harry nearly huffed. This entire bloody conversation was testing his patience, and his temper, to the limit. He wasn't entirely certain just how long he could sit here without reacting to the insults.

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Professor, but these particular Gryffindors required a magical oath before fully trusting what I'd told them under influence of veritaserum. That doesn't seem particularly overly-trusting to me."

"Point," the professor replied, sighing.

"Potter is more powerful than the dark lord," Malfoy said bluntly into the silence that had fallen after the professor's acknowledgement. "He will win, eventually."

"He is an untried boy!" Snape hissed.

Malfoy shrugged. "Maybe so, but training will take care of that."

Snape huffed and shook his head. "You do realize, don't you, that if, or rather _when_ this gets out, I'm going to have to treat you as badly as, or worse than, I do the Gryffindors?"

Malfoy swallowed heavily, but nodded slightly. "Yes, Sir," he replied quietly.

"I can not allow my personal feelings to enter into the equation at all. They don't matter."

"They do to me, Sir," Malfoy replied in a near whisper.

_Come on, Snape,_ Harry thought fiercely, _throw away that Slytherin caution just this once and **be** that 'caring family member' you claim you are. He needs you!_

Snape sighed heavily, his eyes closing as if he were in pain. "I care about you, Draco, and I just want what's best for you out of this untenable situation."

"Then you're not going to turn me over to the dark lord?" Draco asked pointedly, head raised defiantly, but even Harry could see the Slytherin was shaking as he waited for his godfather's response.

Snape's eyes snapped open and for the briefest of seconds, Harry could see horror written in every line of the man's expression. "No, Draco, I'm not."

Draco wilted with visible relief. "Thank you," he whispered faintly.

"I cannot, however," he continued firmly, "be seen to be . . . supportive of your decision."

Malfoy shook his head. "Of course not," he said readily.

Snape rose suddenly, as did Malfoy. Harry quickly followed suit, relieved that this visit appeared to be over.

"Draco, please let me speak to the headmaster on your behalf, regardless of anything else, he can help protect you."

Draco frowned, then slumped slightly, squaring his shoulders immediately afterwards. "I- I'll consider it," he said finally.

Looking as disappointed as Harry had ever seen the man, Snape nodded sharply. "Very well, Draco. I won't say anything until you're ready. Don't wait too long."

"I won't, Sir."

After the professor led them back into his office, Malfoy stopped before opening the door to the hall and turned to face his godfather. "I know you don't really approve, Sir," he said quietly, "but I really think you should consider your options as well. The dark lord is in hiding most of the time, half his raids fail, and he's obsessed with killing someone who's more powerful than he is. That's not a recipe for success - not in my opinion anyway."

"I will give your . . . _opinion_, all the consideration it deserves," Snape sneered.

Harry had never in his life wanted to hit someone so much! The man claimed to care about his godson, and then could just blow him off. It made absolutely no sense to Harry. Neither did Malfoy's reaction.

He smirked and nodded. "Of course, Sir."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, the moment the door closed behind them.

Malfoy turned to him in surprise. "About what?" he asked, only sneering slightly.

"That he didn't seem more open to the idea."

Malfoy snorted. "He said he'd consider it."

Harry rolled his eyes. _Yeah, at about the same time hell freezes over!_ He didn't want to actually _say_ that, however, so opted for as much tact as he could muster. "Didn't sound like he thought it was, um, worth much consideration."

Malfoy looked at him narrowly. "You may not think much of my opinion, Potter, but that doesn't mean everyone agrees with you."

Harry gaped. "Were we listening to the same conversation?" he asked incredulously.

Snorting, Malfoy shook his head. "Somehow, I don't think we were," he replied.

"I don't doubt that," Harry muttered. "Slytherin-speak is a bloody foreign language."

"Yes, it takes one to know one," he replied, laughing. "Come on, Potter. I don't know about you, but I've got homework to get started on before dinner."

Harry nodded, following after the already moving Slytherin. "Hey, Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Is there a book you can recommend I read to get a handle on this head of line thing?" Harry asked. "I'd really rather not get caught unawares again."

"I thought that's what Gryffindors were best at?" Malfoy asked, the smirk in his voice matching the one on his face.

"Only when there's no other choice," Harry muttered.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow at him, but didn't otherwise respond to his retort. "I've never looked for one," he said, instead. "I learned it by rote when I was little." He shrugged. "There might be something in the library geared toward teaching muggleborn students."

_Great,_ Harry thought sourly. _Maybe Hermione will know._ "Thanks anyway."

"Thank me when I actually do something to help, Potter," Malfoy retorted. "Lesson one in Slytherin thinking."

A slow smirk twitched his mouth upward, not believing he was actually finding Draco Malfoy, the ferret, amusing. "So, you're going to teach me how to think like a Slytherin are you?" he asked.

"Call it an investment in survival," Malfoy replied with a slight shrug. "If I can temper your Gryffindor impulsiveness with Slytherin cunning, we might actually survive."

Harry laughed fully at that. "And what'll I teach you in return?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"How about I teach you just how fun Gryffindor impulsiveness can be?"

Malfoy's eyes widened. "I don't think that's remotely possible."

"You're on, Malfoy," Harry declared.

"What?"

"I accept your challenge."

Malfoy looked at him as if he'd completely lost his mind. "I didn't make a challenge."

"Yeah, you did," Harry insisted. "You said it wasn't possible for me to teach you."

"That's not a challenge."

"To a Gryffindor it is. Tell us something isn't possible and we just _have_ to prove you wrong."

"Bloody Gryffindors."

On that note, the two of them separated, both chuckling, to go their own way. Neither of them wanted to be caught associating at this point. It was far too early in the game.

x-x-x

Harry sighed. The last week certainly had not been as productive as he would have liked. It was like pulling the fangs off a basilisk trying to get good information about what being head of a line truly entailed. The book he was currently reading was just as useless as the three they'd found in the library. Hogwarts' library, as much as it usually boasted an impressive collection that covered just about every subject you could possibly want or need, didn't have _anything_ useful about the rights and responsibilities of heads of line. It was, in a word, frustrating! Oh, Hermione had found books that touted themselves as 'everything the muggleborn needs to understand wizarding hiearchy'. Harry snorted. The books only covered the very basics, which Harry had figured out on his own, or virtually so. Yeah, everything a muggleborn needs to know to realize that they'd never have any true ranking in wizarding society, being the 'founding' member of a family line was _not_ something most looked on favorably.

All of the information contained in them was easy to obtain simply by observing the world they lived in. Heads of line held the power in each family: obvious. Each family had a ranking in society, one that was dictated by how old the family in question was, whether or not they originated from the wizarding country in question, and last, but definitely not least, whether or not they were descended from one of the area's founding families: all also obvious to anyone with half a brain. He had discovered that, in the area controlled by the British Ministry of Magic, there had been 15 founding families, of which - according to the books they'd found in the library - only ten remained. The other five had ended - one way or another - over the last several centuries. Of course, what the books didn't say outright - though, it was rather strongly implied - was that the blood purity of each family also contributed to their ranking. Also affecting local ranking was whether one could legitimately claim to be descended from the Hogwarts' founders - and prove it - as they were considered the elite of the elite so to speak, royalty among aristocrats.

Harry huffed, barely resisting the urge to slam the cover closed. Hermione wouldn't appreciate it if he damaged her book. She'd bought it on the last Hogsmeade weekend, after the library had proved insufficient. The books had all been great as an introduction to the subject - as boring as they were - but they didn't tell him what he needed to know, what most of the purebloods were probably taught from the moment they were old enough to understand the words.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the top of her book.

"Just the usual," he complained, waving a hand toward the abandoned book. "It says the exact same things as the ones we found in the library."

Hermione frowned. "Mr. Blotts told me it was _the_ authoritative book on the subject."

"I'm beginning to think that this garbage is all that's written. I mean, why write a book almost no one is going to buy?"

"I'd buy it, Harry."

Harry chuckled. "I know you would, Hermione. And I'm sure there are other muggleborn who would, but I'm sure you've noticed, this world isn't exactly geared toward muggleborns."

"I'd noticed," Hermione replied drily, her tone also a touch sour.

He didn't blame her for it at all, either. "I'm going to have to find a pureblood who can teach this to me, I think."

"That's a good idea," Hermione exclaimed. "I wonder if Ron or Neville know this stuff well enough."

TBC  
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	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter Five  
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Harry let all thought fade from his conscious mind as he flowed through the kata routine, letting even the presence of both Hermione and Neville fade into the background of his awareness. It hadn't taken him long to discover that the katas, once he could do them easily, were almost as good as meditating - and they had the added benefit of exercising his body at the same time. All things considered, he would grab hold of just about anything that allowed him to do more than one of his many activities at once. He was spending more time in the ROR than he was in the Gryffindor common room, and beginning to feel like he was drowning in things he needed to get done. There simply wasn't enough time in the day.

He'd long since converted the DA into a far more mutual study group than it had been the year before. Each week someone different was in charge of introducing spells and other ideas that they all practiced or learned together. He, Hermione, and Ron still took lead of the DA once a month, but that was still far less work than last year. It certainly made it far easier on him - and everyone else, for that matter - and did even more for the confidence of everyone involved. He'd broached the idea of introducing family politics into the group, but had been voted down. Hermione had, quite rightly, pointed out that too many of the people involved in the DA were younger siblings and wouldn't need to ever know the stuff.

Ron had agreed with Hermione; though, not for her reasons. He simply found the whole subject boring, something Harry had figured out back when he'd asked him about teaching it to him.

He sighed as he finished his second kata and moved smoothly into his third. Neville hadn't been much more help; though, he did know a lot more than Ron did.

__

"I'll tell you what I can, Harry, but Gran hasn't been real big on teaching me about it," Neville replied quietly, the shrugged, smiling sadly. "I don't think she thinks I can handle it."

"I know you could, Neville," Harry replied just as quietly.

"Thanks."

"So who do you think could teach this stuff to me?"

"All the older pureblood families know this stuff. It's handed down from father to oldest son, generation after generation," Neville told him. "I'm sure some of the kids from mixed blood families - especially if it's the father that's from a wizarding background - would be able to. It'll just be a case of finding one of them that has the time and you trust well enough." Neville snorted then, shaking his head. "If he wasn't such an obnoxious prat, I'd say Malfoy'd be the one to ask. He's sure to know the ins and outs of it, blindfolded, deaf and dumb."

Harry laughed in response, knowing damn well that his friend was probably right, which made it a no brainer. He'd ask Malfoy. Of course, he'd find someone else to go over it too. He trusted Malfoy to look out for his own best interests, and those didn't necessarily coincide with Harry's. He supposed the oath would take care of at least some of that, but still didn't think Malfoy would be completely forthcoming about all the rights and responsibilities Harry had as head of line - at least those 'within the family'.

Letting himself come to a rest at the end of his third kata, he allowed awareness of the others to seep forward, and noticed that they too were just finishing up. He grinned and jumped to his feet. "So, anyone up for some throws?" he asked, smirking.

x-x-x

Harry strode down the hallway, his mood good despite the bruises he'd developed from their practice session. It didn't seem to matter how often he practiced falling, he ended up landing wrong at least once or twice each time they worked out together. Next on his list of things to do was meet Malfoy. They met twice a week in one of the unused dungeon rooms in order for Harry to learn more about - as Malfoy sneeringly put it - everything he _should_ have learned before he even came to Hogwarts. One night was devoted to family and wizarding laws and traditions, and one night was devoted to a little bit of everything - including very remedial potions.

He made it to the ground floor before he was stopped.

"Mr. Potter."

He sighed; though he tried to hide the reaction. "Yes, Professor?" he asked, turning around to face Professor McGonagall.

"The headmaster would like to see you in his office in one hour."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing full well it wouldn't go over well with his head of house. "Yes, Ma'am," he replied evenly.

"The password for today is Candy Corn."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied. "I'll be there," he continued, then darted off before the Professor could say anything else. He had to hurry if he wanted to spend much of any time with Malfoy today.

He couldn't help wondering just what the headmaster wanted to talk about; though he had his suspicions. This was the first time the headmaster had called him for a private meeting since the beginning of the year, and Harry was sure he wanted to talk about the so-called 'anger management' sessions he was supposed to be taking with Professor Snape. Maybe, if things went well, he'd once again broach the touchy subjects he'd tried to raise with the headmaster over the summer. He really would like an answer to some of them.

Harry slowed his pace as he tried to figure out exactly what he was going to tell the headmaster if that _was_ what the old man wanted to talk about. _Not the truth, for sure,_ Harry thought sourly. He really didn't think that would go over very well, and certainly wouldn't be conducive to calmly talking through their other issues. By the time he had puzzled out just how he was going to respond if he was right, he had reached the classroom he and Malfoy used. That issue settled to his momentary satisfaction, he pushed the topic to the back of his mind and - after making sure no one else was around to see him - slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"How many seats are on the wizarding council and who traditionally fill those seats?" Malfoy asked the moment the door was shut.

Harry blinked in surprise; though, he supposed he should have been expecting it by now. Malfoy did the same thing almost every time they got together. In the weeks following his asking Malfoy to teach him, most of the time had been spent on history and laws. They had yet to even touch on head of line rights and responsibilities specifically, concentrating more on the duties of being titled - of course, according to Draco, some of those things overlapped, but some didn't.

"There are 50 seats and they are filled by the oldest of the wizarding families," Harry replied instantly, despite his preoccupied thoughts, quickly following that up by listing the families that each seat was assigned to - including the 15 founding families of the area. "Not all of the seats are filled anymore," he continued, "with several of the families having died out." Knowing exactly what Malfoy wanted - the prat was almost as hard a taskmaster as Snape - he then listed all the vacant seats and _why_ they were vacant - beyond the fact that there was no one to fill them.

He'd protested memorizing that information only once, and been told in no uncertain terms that he'd be expected to know it if he intended to take his own seats after graduation. No one would take him seriously otherwise. And there was no way that _he_ was going to let Harry humiliate them both by trying to take up his titles and roles without knowing exactly what he needed to know.

"For today-"

Harry held up a hand, interrupting the Slytherin. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but today we're going to have to cut this session short."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him. "I thought you were serious about learning this, Potter?" he asked, only a faint sneer in his tone. "I'm not going to waste my time if you're not."

"I am serious about it, Malfoy," Harry growled, resenting the 'Snape Jr.' attitude, "but the headmaster wants to see me in his office today. I can stay about 15 more minutes before I have to take off to meet him."

Malfoy nodded sharply. "Very well, we'd best get started then."

x-x-x

Harry let out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him, newly learned laws, regulations, stipulations and dates of enactment cluttering his mind. Apparently, Malfoy thought not enough time meant speak twice as fast as usual. Of course, the prat would probably still expect him to be able to answer questions about today's lecture the next time they met. Unfortunately, Harry really didn't think he was going to remember most of this by the next time. He sighed, shaking his head. He really should start remembering to bring parchment and quills with him, because, right now, everything was all a big jumbled mess in his mind.

Slowing as he neared the gargoyle, Harry centered himself, carefully binding away the many issues he still had with the headmaster, utilizing the mindclearing techniques he'd mastered for occlumency. They helped. Still, a part of him wanted to revisit the issue of the anger management sessions, requesting they be ended, not because he wanted the meetings to end - because he didn't, they were handy for sneaking behind the headmaster's back - but just to find out whether the man would actually listen to him this time.

_No,_ he told himself firmly, shaking his head. _Concentrate on more important matters!_ He also really wished he knew what Professor Snape had passed on to the headmaster about their time together - if anything. He should have asked the professor a long time ago. He knew the subject would be raised, regardless of whether it was actually the reason for today's private visit.

Pausing as he reached the guarded entrance, he took a couple slow, deep breaths before giving the password. "Candy corn."

The guardian slid to the side, revealing the hidden stairwell and Harry confidently stepped onto the top stair. He concentrated on trying to relax as he rode the stairs up. It wasn't as easy as he would have liked. Everything he was feeling about the man was all mixed up inside him and it was difficult to sort it all out. All too soon he arrived at the door, but before he could even knock, it opened onto the headmaster's office.

"Come in, Harry."

Harry smiled as he walked in and dropped into the chair in front of the headmaster's desk. "Good afternoon, Headmaster," he said.

"Lemon drop?"

"No thank you."

The headmaster nodded, smiling and replacing the bowl of yellow candies back on his desk. "So, how has your term gone so far?"

Harry shrugged, not really interested in small talk. He would rather get to the point of the visit, so he could get back to the rest of his day. "Fine," he replied shortly. "You needed to see me about something, Sir?"

"Ah, straight to the point then, is it?" the headmaster asked.

Harry nodded. "I have a lot of homework I need to get to, Sir."

If he didn't simply want to be gone, Harry might have found the energy to be insulted by the surprised look that briefly flared across the headmaster's expression; instead, he simply chose to ignore it.

"Very well then, Harry," the headmaster agreed readily, leaning forward intently before continuing. "I wanted to talk to you about your upcoming holiday activities."

Confused, Harry frowned. "What about them, Sir?" he asked. He'd assumed he be staying at the school - as usual - or heading to Grimmauld place. Sheer dread suddenly coursed through him. Had they found the Dursleys? Was he going to send Harry back to them for winter break, since he hadn't stayed with them over the summer? Hadn't the wards fallen for good? Before he could voice any of his fears, however, he realized the headmaster was still speaking and he'd missed part of what the old man had been saying.

"-so, at first you'll continue with your anger therapy and begin slowly with occlumency."

Harry fought the instant outrage that tried to overwhelm him. The headmaster hadn't even asked how the classes were going before assuming he still needed to go! And over winter break! He shoved it all down, having learned that it did no good to protest the headmaster's 'decrees'. He almost snorted at the thought. He'd had better luck thwarting Umbridges so-called 'educational decrees'.

_Be an adult, Harry!_ he scolded himself. "Very well, Headmaster," he replied firmly. "I would be willing to set aside two one hour sessions a week during my break, one for '_anger_ therapy and one for occlumency."

The headmaster immediately shook his head. "I'm afraid that won't be quite enough, my boy. Since there will be no other classes you need to attend, I'll expect you to spend three one hour sessions a week on anger therapy with Professor Snape, as well as spending two hours, three times the first week, in occlumency lessons . . . to get you back into the swing of studying it. For the remaining two and half weeks of break, you'll be spending three hours a day mastering occlumency, as well as continuing the anger therapy. You'll, of course, have one day each week to do with as you please."

Harry frowned, listening to the headmaster drone on about how he would be spending the majority of _his_ break from school. _You'll have one day a week to do with as you please,_ he repeated snidely inside his head - his occlumency barriers up full - though, he made sure not to look the headmaster in directly in the eyes anyway. Didn't want to give the game away after all. He should, though, he knew. If the headmaster knew how good he was already getting at occlumency, he'd back off. Wouldn't he?

_Yeah, like he backed off with the temper issue?_

Harry's frown deepened. "Sir, I thought you should know," he tried, "I'm already getting pretty good at occlumency."

"I'm sure you are Harry," the headmaster agreed smiling, looking delighted. "As I'm sure you're aware, however, Voldemort is very powerful, and we need to make sure he can no longer get into your mind."

"Yes, Sir. I agree with that, Sir, but-"

"No buts, Harry. You need to do this."

_Told you he wouldn't listen!_

"Have you told Professor Snape yet?" he asked snidely, unable - at last - to keep all of his resentment out of his voice.

Dumbledore frowned at him, looking disappointed. "Professor Snape will be available, Harry, never fear."

_I'll take that as a 'no',_ Harry sneered silently.

"He will do his job."

_Job!_

"It's his 'job' to use up his vacation time teaching?" he asked in disbelief.

"Harry," Dumbledore admonished lightly, "I can't believe you're being recalcitrant about this. You've already admitted to the need."

"I'M NOT-" Harry shouted, jumping up from his seat before he forcibly cut himself off. "I'm not being recalc-whatever, Headmaster," Harry began again, this time as calmly as he could. "I am already working on occlumency, and I'm willing to do more, I just don't see the need to take up so much of my and Professor Snape's break to do it."

"Harry, in time you will understand," told him, once again smiling. "For now, just trust that I know what I'm doing."

"And what about you trusting that I might actually know what _I'm_ doing, Headmaster?" he asked tightly, trying not to lose his temper, but unable to keep all of it out of his voice. "I need this break," he admitted finally, not wanting to admit to weakness of any kind, but knowing it might be the only chance to get the headmaster to back off.

The headmaster's expression softened. "I know you've been working hard this year, Harry, what with the DA, your lessons, and anger management, and I assure you these lessons will only take up a small portion of your time. It will still be a break for you."

Harry's jaw dropped at the casual dismissal of his plea and he almost told the headmaster that what the man had mentioned was only the tip of the iceburg - so to speak - but something held him back. Something inside him didn't want to test the theory that even if the older wizard knew everything he'd been doing he _still_ wouldn't listen. It was summer breaks revisited and he was very much afraid that it wouldn't matter to the man.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't agree with you on this."

"Be that as it may, Harry, I must insist. You will have your first session with Professor Snape two days after you're settled at Grimmauld Place."

Harry remained silent. He wasn't going to beg. It wouldn't do any good. He, however, wasn't going to simply take this, either. He just had to figure out just what he was going to do about it.

"You do understand, Harry, right?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied tightly, "I understand."

_I understand, alright, Old Man,_ he thought bitterly, _nothing but your opinion matters._

"Very well then, Harry. I'm glad you understand. I know that what I ask of you isn't always easy, but I also know that you can handle it. You are a very remarkable young man."

x-x-x

Albus sadly watched the young Gryffindor he was so proud of stride out of his office. He didn't know where the sudden resentment Harry had developed toward him this year stemmed from, but it all but broke his heart. He supposed it didn't help when he had to keep pushing the boy so hard. He did have to smile a little, however. Despite the rather amazing amount of power at the young man's command - and the anger he'd briefly displayed - Albus' office was just as it was when Harry had arrived. Not a single item had been broken, or even ruffled for that matter. Albus couldn't begin to express - to himself or anyone else - just how proud that made him.

He sighed, wishing he truly could back off and let Harry have his own lead. Unfortunately, he did not believe he had that option at all. Time was running out, of that he was absolutely certain. The feeling that had begun deep inside him before the term began, had not lessened in the slightest. It had only grown. The two of them had to develop some level of trust between them, and they had to do it soon.

"Oh, my boy, if anyone can tame Severus' demons, it's you. Just, please, do it soon," Albus pled. Moments later, he shook himself and returned his attention to the piles of work on his desk. He had to leave his two favorite boys to their own devices. Either they would mend fences, or they would not. He was already doing all he could to help them along.

x-x-x

Harry berated himself all the way back to Gryffindor tower. He hadn't broached a single one of the topics he'd really wanted to. He'd wanted out of the headmaster's presence too badly to do anything calmly. It did make him wonder, for just a moment, whether or not he really did need more help with his temper. If he couldn't even remain calm when-

_No,_ he told himself firmly. _Anyone would be angry at what he's pulling!_ The important thing was, he hadn't lost control; of his temper _or_ of his magic.

Forcibly calming himself, Harry started planning. He had a lot to get done, if his break was going to actually be productive. He'd thought he'd be staying at Hogwarts, where it would be easy to practice his spells, both wandless and not. Now that was taken away, he was going to have to figure something else out. Of course, being away from Hogwarts, it might make it easier to get to Gringotts and see if Malfoy was right about there probably being family books stored in his vault. The last time he'd visited his vault, he'd noticed several books, but hadn't really paid much attention to them. Of course, he hadn't exactly been interested in books at the time. He'd been more interested in getting the galleons he needed. He _had_ noticed the parchment detailing the property he'd been planning on heading to the moment he turned 17. At the time, he pretty much hadn't even cared what kind of condition it was in. All that had mattered was that it belonged to him. He could certainly handle 'roughing it' for a month - especially since it would be summer anyway.

By the time he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, he was sure he had a reasonable plan. Now, he just needed to talk to the one person who could help him carry it out . . . assuming the wizard would actually be willing. Of course, Remus would be a good choice to help with some of it, but as much as the man was a friend, he doubted Remus would be willing to trust his judgement enough to help with the things that required he leave the safety of Grimmauld Place. Harry snorted as he said the password, nodding abruptly to the portrait. _Not that Snape trusts my judgement either!_

Bursting into the Gryffindor common room, and striding toward the boys' dorm at full speed, Harry ignored any of his friends that called after him. Slamming the door behind him, he launched himself at his trunk and hurriedly dug out his invisibility cloak. He had to see Professor Snape, and definitely didn't want the headmaster to know. If the professor actually had some forewarning of what the headmaster had planned, maybe they could . . . counteract it somehow. The least he could do was not allow the older wizard to get blindsided with the information that his break was going to be ruined.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed bursting into the dorm. "What's wro-" Ron broke off, obviously not seeing him anywhere.

Thankfully, Ron had left the door open and Harry easily slipped out of the room without his friend being any the wiser.

"I know you're under that bloody cloak of yours, Harry," Ron accused as Harry started down the stairs.

_You're talking to an empty room, Ron._ Harry stifled a laugh as he shook his head, hurrying down the stairs and through the common room as quickly as stealth would allow. He knew he should have taken the time to talk to Ron first, but didn't want to take the chance that Dumbledore would get to Professor Snape first. That would make everything worse if they couldn't get out of it.

x-x-x

Severus scowled at the door through which the menace of his life had just exited. Even he had to admit that it wasn't Potter's fault this time, but that didn't change the fact that this latest disaster centered around the boy. He'd had _plans_ for this winter break, and he sincerely hoped that the brat had simply misunderstood Albus. He was somewhat, okay _very_, shocked that the boy had come to him at all. It showed signs that the brat might actually care about the plans of someone other than himself. He sighed and turned toward his private quarters. There was nothing he could do about it right now, not unless he wished to give away the fact that Potter had come straight to him after he'd found out. That was something he was particularly loathe to do, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being his doubt about the boy's understanding.

Of course, the fact that he would be giving up a decided advantage if he let that slip didn't play any part whatsoever in his decision. If the boy was right, Severus would be able to walk into the meeting with Albus prepared ahead of time - something that didn't happen very often. Perhaps it would allow him to finagle his way out of his winter break being completely taken up.

_If you'd just tell the man about Potter's slowly growing success with occlumency, he wouldn't be requiring this in the first place!_ he scolded himself. He still didn't want to do that, however, something deep inside telling him it was better this way. That bothered him, however. He'd trusted Albus for a long time, that doubt was beginning to creep in around the edges of his trust was . . . unsettling.

"I'll deal with it when the time comes," he muttered as he crossed from his office into his sitting room, deciding then and there, to pay much closer attention to both the brat _and_ to Albus. He snorted - as difficult as that would be, considering the amount of his attention the two of them already held. For now, he had papers to grade, and solitude to seek. The future would simply have to take care of itself.

End of Shifting Loyalties - Episode Four of Going Grey  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.

Coming soon: "It's All About Perspective" Episode Five of Going Grey


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